Brother And Sister
by lemondrizzlecake
Summary: A collection of missing moments and canon scenes, covering the entire run of the Hollingsworths on the show. Frankie loved her brother, unconditionally. He didn't always make it easy, though. Finally updated and COMPLETE.
1. Part I

**A/N: This story is a collection of missing moments and canon scenes, altogether painting the relationship between Frankie and Miles. The snippets are all in chronological order, although mostly unconnected, and the amount of time between each consecutive scenes varies (from same-day to several weeks).**

 **Part I** **covers roughly a year and a half of Degrassi-time,** **starting right before S13 and ending at #ThisCouldBeUsButYouPlayin.**

 **A huge Thank You to FrankstonTheSequel for being my guinea pic AND for patiently answering my English Grammar questions, as well as for reading several drafts of this monster. I owe you big time! Any mistakes are clearly mine, not his.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

BROTHER AND SISTER

I.

…

Frankie had just turned 13 when her brother Miles left for boarding school. She was so used to having him around, constantly mocking her and Hunter, picking up a fight with their dad, and generally being a pain in the ass – like only older brothers are able to – that the house suddenly felt too quiet, once he was gone.

He didn't come home until Christmas, that year. His school wasn't even that far away, but their parents tended to be always busy at weekends, and Miles never expressed the desire to come back anyway. He looked changed, a bit taller, a bit… different. She had never _not_ seen him for this long, and it was a funny feeling.

"So, how is boarding school?" she asked him, the first night he was back. _I've missed you_ , is what she actually wanted to say, and _Have you missed me too?_ But they weren't that kind of siblings; the kind that say nice things to each other.

Miles just shrugged in response, not too bothered. They were sitting in the lounge room by the fireplace, a hot chocolate in their hands.

"We all know that Dad only sent me there so I wouldn't screw up his life," he stated, bitter. "But he'll see…"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He gave her that look that she knew all too well, for having seen it on his face one too many times. It was a look that said _Don't even try to mess with_ me, _because it'll backfire_. She suddenly felt uncomfortable, as he shot a sideways smile in her direction.

"Let's just say I'm not one to go down in silence…" he replied.

By the end of the school year, he had managed to get himself expelled. They said he had set fire to a garden shed on school property, and she didn't even bother asking why he'd done it.

Not two weeks had passed, and their dad had already shipped him off again, this time to a Summer School in Paris. He hadn't been home for five minutes and had already caused a scene at the event for the launch of their father's mayoral campaign, typical Miles. Even though she was younger than him, sometimes she just wished he would grow up already, and quit the idiotic stunts.

Still, spending the summer in Paris seemed hardly a punishment, and Frankie was quite jealous of him. She had been a few times with her family and absolutely loved it, but going by herself? That would have been the best! This was the story of her life, though: Miles was the one constantly messing up, and yet he was the one getting to do all the cool things.

Nevertheless, she was sort of happy they would all be together at the same school this year. Annoying or not, Miles was her brother, and she had missed him while he was gone.

…

It wasn't hard to ignore Miles's antics once school finally started. While her brother was busy stressing out about making the basketball team, and throwing wild party after the next in his spare time to exasperate their parents, Frankie focused on getting a head-start on the ruthless social ladder that was high school.

Not to brag, but Frankie was born to be in high school. She'd been popular enough at her old junior high, but Degrassi proved to open new wonderful ways to her. Who would have thought that someone as cool as Zoë Rivas, aka none other than Gatsby Garcia from 'West Drive', would have attended a community school? And, most importantly, who would have thought she would have taken Frankie under her wing? Zoë was amazing. So cool, and funny, and well, an actual celebrity. Plus, she clearly understood what being in the public eye entailed, and she had endless lists of useful advice for Frankie to deal with the limelight of her father's campaign.

The only thing that threatened to ruin her new friendship with Zoë was, once again, Frankie's dumb older brother. This is something that had apparently slipped from her memory, over the one year he spent at boarding school, but Miles somehow seemed to always find his way to any of her girlfriends. She didn't pick up on it, at first, but Zoë kept glaring daggers at Miles every time he appeared in their field of vision, and when Frankie inquired about it, Zoë reluctantly admitted they had a little history gone wrong that past summer. Of course.

"What happened between you two in Paris?" she confronted Miles, marching onto him back home that night. "And don't say nothing, because I know it's not true."

Miles seemed completely unaffected by her accusations, only gracing her with an amused grin.

"What do you think happened? We hooked up. Then she proved herself the A-list mean girl that she is and I dumped her. End of story."

Gosh, Miles was so infuriating. Typical him, being all so careless about things and people. She could bet this is not how Zoë would tell the story, either.

"What did she even see in you I'll never know!" she spat at him.

"Why, Frankenstein, I'm such a charming stud, don't you know?"

She rolled her eyes at that, not even bothering to answer. She heard him chuckling as she left the room.

…

It was a couple of weeks after Thanksgiving, and by now Frankie had completely settled into her new routine at Degrassi. That morning, Miles had one of his evil grins on his face as he looked at her from across the breakfast table, and that's how Frankie knew trouble was coming.

"So, _parents_ ," he started, while producing his phone as evidence, "I was wondering what you think of Frankie's latest stunt at school."

Frankie's heart sunk as she got a glimpse of the picture he was showing – of her and the girls in the hallway, yesterday, Keisha holding a sign that clearly stated 'My Bra My Business'. In the chair next to hers, Hunter rolled his eyes with his most practiced _Not-Again_ expression on, and proceeded to pull up his noise-cancelling headphones and ignore them all, as per usual.

"Frankie?" her father cornered her, "Care to elaborate?"

She sent Miles a burning _Thankyouverymuch_ look, before turning towards her father.

"The girls and I are protesting against the school dress-code, because it's sexist!"

Miles almost choked on his orange juice. "Right… and not because you want to wear slutty clothes at school?"

"Miles! Language!" their mother interjected, and Miles raised his hands in defeat, silencing himself. Frankie could feel her cheeks blush violently.

"Well, actually," she started, getting herself back together, "if you want to know it, it was this girl Imogen's idea, and she's a senior and really smart and not at all… like that!"

Miles still had a sardonic smile plastered all over his stupid face, but her dad seemed interested in the story.

"Sexist, you say?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Frankie continued, feeling a bit more confident in herself, "Principal Simpson agrees with us, and he asked us to draft a new proposal," she finished, sending Miles the smuggest look she could manage without being too obvious.

"Well, it's important to get involved with your school, and I find it laudable that Frankie is standing up for an injustice," he said, rewarding her with one of his bright smiles, the type that always made her feel warm and fuzzy inside. "Once again, Miles, you could only learn from your sister!"

"What?!" her brother protested, unable to contain himself, "She was wearing her bra over her clothes, for crying out loud!"

"It was a peaceful demonstration!"

"Enough!" their father stopped them, and they suddenly went quiet, because he was using _that_ tone, the one you didn't want to mess with. "If you can't say anything nice to your sister, Miles, then I suggest you say nothing at all," concluded Dad, and now Frankie felt a tiny bit bad about it – after all, she had been tweaking the truth the slightest bit, to embellish it a little. It was not her fault though, if she was smarter than Miles. He should have known better than trying to pin their parents against her.

She shot a victorious look at her dumb older brother, and even dared to show him her tongue (when Dad wasn't looking). Miles was sulking silently in the corner, his arms crossed against his chest. He kept it up all the way to school, and didn't talk to her for the rest of the day. And they say that girls are the dramatic ones…

…

For someone who complained so much about Dad being constantly on his case, Miles sure didn't put much effort into avoiding dumb situations. Like yesterday, for example, when he had managed to get caught by their father and his staff, naked in the pool with his new girlfriend. Well, _technically_ nobody was saying they were naked, but Frankie could bet it was true. It just wouldn't have been such a big deal if they weren't. Gosh, part of her wished she had been home to see it, to see their dad's face, it must have been hilarious!

Sure, right now it wasn't much fun, at least not for Miles, as Dad was clearly giving him the cold shoulder for it at the breakfast table. Frankie didn't know what Miles was expecting, though. After all, he did have a history of dumb decisions with girls, and of screwing up their dad's career opportunities for it. He should just apologise and keep his head down, instead of making such a big deal about it.

"Since Paris I haven't messed up once!" he complained to their mother, once their father had left. "I mean, I even agreed to that stupid media training!" His voice got lower as he added, "No matter how hard I try he doesn't see it."

Frankie didn't really know what to make of this. Miles made it abundantly clear he didn't care what their father thought of his stunts. In fact, pissing off their dad was _precisely_ why Miles did half the stuff he did. Yet, right now he sounded… hurt? Frankie suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable remembering how their dad had just openly praised her and Hunter in front of Miles, like he so often did. However, she wouldn't know what else to suggest a part from what their mum had just told him: try harder. It really was as simple as that.

And for a while it seemed Miles was actually following the advice – Frankie had never seen him as involved with the campaign. Being Miles, though, she wasn't surprised when it didn't last. When the media training event came up, it was obvious that her brother had grown bored of it all, and he wasn't willing to put even the tiniest little effort into it. His answers to the mock-questions were so over the top and obviously fake that Frankie wondered if he was actively trying to piss everyone off. Her heart almost jumped in her chest when Miles kicked his chair to the floor and left, swiftly chased by their mother. He was probably just being overdramatic, she tried telling herself as the muffled sounds of them arguing in the patio travelled all the way back to the house.

But then their mum walked back in alone, saying that Miles wasn't feeling very well and they would continue without him. And Frankie pushed down any worry for her brother's skittish behaviour, and focused her attention to Andrea and her questions.

…

Miles didn't let her join his infamous pool-parties, like, ever. Just a few weeks ago, he had threatened retaliation if she dared leave her room while he had people over, and they'd had a massive argument about it. Therefore, when she received Winston's enthusiastic facerange invitation to her own house, she knew that something was up.

"What's going on?" she confronted Miles, "I thought Dad said no people over!"

Their parents were in Calgary overnight for an event, and she was pretty sure they wouldn't approve of a party. Hadn't they appointed Drew as baby-sitter for precisely this reason? Besides, what exactly happened to Miles's resolution to try harder?

Miles gave her one of his infamous grins, passing by her to grab some soda from the fridge.

"Don't be such a killjoy, little sis!" he smirked, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"What about Drew?" she asked.

"It's taken care of," he offered, suspiciously. That didn't make her feel any better about the whole thing.

"But-"

"C'mon, Frankie, everyone likes a party. Don't you want to have some fun?"

Of course Frankie wanted to have fun. She had pestered Miles for years to be allowed to join in his social endeavours, and now that she was finally in high school she felt like she pretty much needed to. It was in the rulebook, or something.

"Fine. But only if I can invite my friends!" she negotiated, and Miles's grin only got wider in response. She just hoped this wasn't a total bad idea…

The party was absolutely crazy, and everyone seemed pretty much drunk. Frankie was no stranger to alcohol, as it was readily available at any of their parents' fancy evenings, but to be honest she didn't quite understand all the hype about it. Beer tasted bitter and awful, and while cocktails were good, it was mostly thanks to the sugary stuff that you mixed with them. She had been sipping at the same cup of vodka-cranberry for most of the evening, and in the same amount of time she had witnessed Zoë down at least five cups of beer – and that was a conservative estimate.

Miles was clearly also having a great time, if that could be measured by the level of ethanol in your blood. He strolled around the pool, having a laugh and a chat with everybody, downing shots as if they were water and goofing around with his basketball friends. Frankie shook her head and went back to her girlfriends, deciding it wasn't her job to babysit Miles, or Zoë. She was here to have a good time, after all, and she was very determined to follow through.

The sudden sound of her brother's angry voice reached her from across the pool – so loud that it overpowered the blasting music – making her turn around to check what was happening.

"You don't understand anything!" he was shouting at Maya, "Nothing!"

His girlfriend looked incredibly small next to him, and an awful feeling filled Frankie's being at the sight, making her shiver. She wondered what it was that made her so uncomfortable. It was hardly the first time that she witnessed one of her brother's outbursts, but something in the whole scene struck a chord with her. It brought to the surface other unpleasant memories, buried deep underneath and long forgotten. Memories of their dad, mostly, yelling at Miles in much the same fashion.

She wondered if he, too, was aware of the similarity.

…

Frankie sat quietly on the school steps, her pom-poms lying tangled at her feet. It had been a couple of days since the pool party, and they had been hands down the most unsettling few days of her life. It all felt surreal, almost like sleepwalking. She had just watched in silence as the police took away Luke Baker and Neil Martin – the sirens blasting and the two boys looking smaller than ever, still wearing their basketball uniforms. The complete mess around her had yet to fade, and some police was still visible in front of Degrassi.

Frankie was alone, waiting for her mum to come pick her and her brothers up now that the game had been cancelled. From where she sat she could see Miles, standing at the opposite side of the road with Zoë, and Maya, and Dallas, and their friends. Hunter was hiding somewhere in the school, probably the computer lab, given he never had any intention of coming to the game in the first place. Frankie wondered now if he even knew what was going on. She had sent him a text, but Hunter probably hadn't even looked at his phone yet. She'd better go look for him, she thought, before their mother arrived.

"You okay?"

Frankie shuddered out of her train of thoughts, as Miles quietly dropped down on the steps next to her. She hadn't even noticed him leaving his group. She only now registered they all had dispersed, Zoë nowhere to be seen. Maybe she had gone home, Frankie guessed. Or maybe she was still being questioned by the police.

She suddenly realised Miles had asked her a question, and must think she had turned stupid, given her lack of response. He was sitting in silence at her side, though, not probing her any further. She didn't even remember what question it was.

"I don't understand this," she told him, out of the blue, gaining herself a hesitant look from his part.

"What?" he asked, softly.

Frankie was still trying to wrap her head around everything that had just gone down. It seemed too crazy to be true.

"So… it was Luke, in the video?" she resolved to ask. "Did he… did they really do those _things_ to Zoë?"

Miles spoke really quietly. "Yes," he said.

"I don't get it," she said.

Miles seemed taken aback. "You don't get what?" he asked, his voice way gentler than usual – as if he were afraid she would crumble in pieces if he spoke too loud.

"It's just…" Frankie hesitated, unsure of where she was going with this. So many things had happened today and she hadn't quite put her thoughts in order, yet. "Luke was talking to me, before the game," she finally said. She saw Miles stiffen, at her words, almost unnoticeably – but she noticed it anyway. "I was… sort of flattered, you know? He was acting all charming, and he's a senior, and a hockey star and everything… was he… I mean…" she took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. "Did I do something wrong?"

Miles's face literally dropped at her last words. He looked at her with eyes so big that she had to shift her gaze away.

"No, Franks, you didn't," he told her, very quietly and yet sure of himself. "It's all on him, I promise," he added, barely audible, "And I'm really glad they stopped him before he could move on to- to someone else."

Frankie shivered slightly at his words, feeling uncomfortable.

"Zoë got him off of me," she recalled.

"…She did?" asked Miles, surprised.

"She came on and accused him right when he was talking to me."

"Right…"

"And you, too," she suddenly remembered, "You got in between them, and prevented him from taking his phone back."

"It wasn't just me. Dallas, too, and half the team, actually."

"You were the first one, though, I saw you. I was afraid he would hurt you."

Miles hesitated, lowering his gaze. "I couldn't just sit and do nothing," he whispered. Then he sighed, loudly. "Zoë told me, earlier today… she said that it's my fault, that I let them do that to her."

"She doesn't mean that," Frankie replied automatically.

Miles made a face, at that, one that she didn't quite understand. His voice dropped to a quiet murmur as he continued, "Well, actually… it's kind of true."

Frankie stared back at him, puzzled. Even when everyone was saying it was him, yesterday, she simply couldn't believe it to be true. Miles could not have taken advantage of Zoë, that was just not a possibility. It didn't matter how bad it looked, with the pictures of them all over facerange, and Zoë waking up naked in their pool-house, Frankie knew her brother. She knew him. She knew it wasn't true.

"Miles… you would never…"

"Of course not!" he cut her off, "But… I did leave her alone, passed out. I could have taken her upstairs, I could have made sure someone stayed with her."

Frankie noticed how tense his shoulders were, how his leg was fidgeting. She placed a hand on his forearm, squeezing him gently until he calmed down a little, and only then taking her hand back.

She fixed her eyes on the concrete steps, not looking at him, and she muttered, "People were saying that she wanted it…"

"Nobody wants this to happen to them, Frankie. Nobody," he stated, sombre, and Frankie quietly turned her eyes back to him. She had rarely seen him look this serious, and she suddenly had the weird feeling he was reprimanding her.

He was right, though. And Frankie felt really bad for not seeing that, earlier; for not siding with Zoë, her friend, as fiercely as she should have.

…

"Nice shiner! Did your girlfriend beat you up?" She teased him, as Miles walked back in from the 'Wild Wild West' night with an angry mark under his left eye.

Obviously Frankie wasn't happy, to see bruises on her brother's face. No matter how annoying, he was still her brother, and she didn't like the idea of him getting hurt. Miles being Miles, though, she had by now grown used to the aftereffects of whatever trouble he had gotten himself into. It usually revolved around a girl, either one he wanted to impress, or one who had dragged him into some stupid drama.

"What girlfriend," he replied bitter, "I don't have one anymore."

She was taken aback by his answer, and stopped still where she was, looking at him intently. It wasn't his words, what had gotten to her. Miles was a serial dater, she had lost count of how many girls he had been with by now, and as much as she knew he was usually the one doing the dumping, she figured it was only a matter of time before the numbers started evening out. No, it wasn't that, it was the way he had said it. He sounded – and looked – devastated. And Frankie was positive none of the many girls that were now his exes had ever meant enough to him to cause any such feeling.

"What happened?" she asked, softly.

Miles shrugged, not even looking at her. Frankie took a seat next to him on the sofa, suddenly filled with the urge to give him a hug. He looked so sad. She didn't dare, though; instead, she hesitantly looked up, scrutinising his face.

"Miles…" she started, unsure. He flinched away from her, jerking his head the other way. "Miles, I'm sure you can still fix it… You and Maya have made up before, right?"

She knew instantly she had said the wrong thing.

"Leave me alone, Frankenstein," Miles snapped angrily at her, his voice full of vitriol, "Go back to play with your dolls, or something."

He didn't even give her time for a comeback; he stood up and left the moment he finished spitting out the sentence, and Frankie felt a surge of frustration overcoming her. Playing with her dolls, really? What was she, five? So much for trying to be nice!

Later, though, she learned from Tristan what had happened. He called at home to check on Miles, who apparently wasn't answering his phone. He said he was worried, that Miles had acted like a psychopath, pointing a replica gun to Zig's head to scare him and freaking everyone out in the process. Tristan insisted Miles should apologise to Maya, and asked her to pass on the message. He said it was very important he did so. Frankie promised to let him know, but if she knew her brother at all, she was pretty sure he would never apologise.

And maybe he shouldn't, she thought. After all, Maya had clearly just broken his heart. She was the one who should apologise.

…

"Did you kiss an older guy?"

Miles marched into her bedroom, looking like a man on a mission.

"What?!" she unoriginally came back.

"Keisha just tweeted about your oh-so-romantic kissing with an older dude. So, did you?"

Frankie sent him the feistiest look she could manage through her bronchitis, hoping it was enough.

"I fail to see how this is any of your business, Miles," she remarked pointedly. Seriously, though, what was wrong with Keisha? Why would she tweet this, did she not know she had a _Miles_ to worry about? Heck, if this was his reaction to her kissing an older boy… she didn't want to imagine what would happen when he found out said boy was Winston, his very own best friend!

"How this is… you're joking, right? Frankie, you're 14!"

"…So? Am I not allowed to even kiss? That's a bit rich, coming from you…"

Miles made a face so repulsed she almost burst out laughing at him. She wondered what he was picturing her doing, and if it was coming out of his own pool of experiences. Gosh, why did she think that?! Now she was the one who wanted to barf…

Miles seemed to regain his composure quite quickly, though. "Of course you're allowed to kiss, and date, and… everything," he said, sounding very reluctant. "But I really think you should start with someone your age!"

"Well… I think I should start with someone nice, and this guy is," she added.

"You don't know that!"

 _Oh, trust me, I think I know_ , she wanted to say, but in that moment a fit of violent coughing overcame her, and suddenly she was bent in half while her lungs almost exploded in her face.

"Jesus, Frankie! Keep your germs to yourself, will you?" said Miles, looking thoroughly disgusted. Frankie sent him what she hoped was a glaring look, although between the snot and redness on her face she highly doubted she'd managed to pull it off.

"We'll talk later," he decided, "You should get back into bed. And take some medicines."

Frankie sighed loudly as he finally left her room. Miles could be a piece of work, at times. And although her bed sounded really tempting, she'd better wait downstairs to warn Winston, she thought, before her stupid brother ambushed him.

…

Dating her brother's best friend came with its own brand of challenges. Quite surprisingly, Miles had not made a big deal out of it when he eventually found out. On the contrary, he pretty much just laughed it off and — after teasing her mercilessly for a whole day — he sort of gave them his amused blessing.

Falling into a new dynamic proved less than smooth, however. Whenever Winston showed up at the house, for instance, there would be a few awkward moments when nobody knew how to act, waiting to clear whether he was there to see her, or Miles. Frankie constantly had to remind herself that Winston was Miles's best friend first, and that him being downstairs with her brother playing games did not mean he didn't want to spend time with her. Still, finding a balance was hard. She tried her best to be reasonable and mature about it, but it was easier said than done. Especially when her dumb brother crashed her date night with Tristan in tow, claiming the TV that she was watching with her _boyfriend_.

She liked Tristan, and she didn't mind playing charades with them, nor did she mind when it turned into 'Murder' after the storm caused a blackout. Still, tonight was supposed to be a date. Would Miles have crashed her evening this carelessly, if she were dating someone other than Winston?

Thing is, she didn't really know. Frankie never had a real boyfriend until now, so she had nothing to compare the current situation with. School was out for Spring Break, though, which gave her and Winston all the time they needed to explore their new relationship, and little by little, eventually things started finding their own balance. Miles seemed happy to let them be, for the most part. Granted, he didn't stop being his annoying usual self, all of a sudden. But that was a miracle that Frankie wouldn't dream to hope for.

…

Once again, Miles was late for a campaign event. Frankie didn't even know why she was surprised, since this happened every single time, and yet she couldn't help being mad at him. Why would he promise to be there, when he was obviously not planning to make it? She had missed Power Cheer tryouts, to come and take these campaign pictures, and now it seemed it had all been for nothing as her stupid brother didn't even show up.

When he finally arrived, their parents were obviously pissed – and who wouldn't. While the crew started setting up the scene, now that everyone was finally here, their father took Miles to the side to lecture him as per usual. They seemed to be arguing animatedly, but to be honest Frankie wasn't paying too much attention to it. That is, until Miles snapped at their father – possibly a bit louder than he intended.

"Making out with my boyfriend!"

The words resonated in the room, making them all turn to him in surprise.

Everyone fell into uncomfortable silence. What the heck was going on? Frankie wondered what had gotten into her brother, for him to say something like that. Was it a plan to make their dad mad? Miles wasn't gay, obviously, and where did this supposed boyfriend come from, anyway? This had to be his twisted way to ruin the day for their father, Frankie was positive about it.

Still, something was off. Like, if this was a scheme all along, why did Miles look so deer-in-headlights? Shouldn't he be glad that all the attention was on him? After all, that's what he wanted, to constantly propel more drama… right?

Miles didn't utter a single word for the remainder of the photoshoot. He stood docile just behind Frankie, a hand on her shoulder, and then he sat on the loveseat with their mother, the twins on the armrests, and then he posed next to their father, the twins at his side. When they were finally allowed to leave, he sprinted out of the room without looking back.

But the weirdest thing happened later that day. When Frankie told Winston about the incident, her boyfriend didn't act as surprised as she'd thought. He looked pensive, sure, and he developed an impressive frown. But then he confessed that right before Spring Break, the night of the thunderstorm, he had walked in on Miles and Tristan making out in the den. Frankie was so shocked she didn't even know what to say. _Tristan_?!

…

That time Hunter and Miles walked in on her and Winston she thought she would die of embarrassment. Then her mum walked in too, and she thought she would die, period.

Winston sneaked out at the first occasion, and she was left alone to complain about the new draconian measures her mother was putting in place.

"Honey, that's different," her mum coldly replied, as she tried to point out that Miles had done way worse than she would ever do.

"Why?" she asked, protesting at the injustice.

"Because Miles can't get pregnant!" she snapped.

"Sounds like a challenge!" Miles muttered under his breath, sending her a knowing look with his signature crooked smile.

She had never felt so mortified; they weren't discussing this in front of her _brothers_ , were they? At the same time, Miles's comment made her chuckle inside. She knew he wasn't thrilled to see her fooling around with his best friend; but the great thing about Miles was he would never judge her, or impose stupid double standards on her.

He stayed behind a little longer, as her mum and Hunter left. He leaned back against the doorframe and winked at her with a smile, before following them downstairs. And _that_ , this silly little thing, suddenly made her feel better.

…

Frankie walked back home from school feeling like crying the entire time. The past few weeks had been a rollercoaster of emotions. Making the Power Cheer team had been awesome, she loved the girls and was becoming fast friends with all of them, especially Lola and Shay. But then Zoë had twisted Frankie's rant about her mum treating her like a baby into the most horrific fundraising idea ever, and everything had changed forever.

Frankie had never been on board with the plan of selling nudes via Oomfchat, and she'd only reluctantly agreed to it because she felt peer-pressured into it. But then that scare she had with Hunter, the thought that her own twin brother could accidentally see her boobs and find them… sexy? She knew then and there she could not continue with the plan. It was not for her, at all. It's not like she'd ever wanted to do it in the first place, either.

But today she got caught. Zoë didn't even let her explain, she just outed her in front of the entire team and forced her to quit. Frankie knew her relationship with Zoë was not the same it once was; it hadn't really been the same after the trial, no matter Zoë's assurance of the contrary. But this was a new low. And oh, it hurt. So much.

She was finally home. Frankie walked through the gate and into their patio, where she found her brothers. They were cackling loudly while basking in the warmth of the spring sun on the lounge chairs. They were leaning into each other, looking conspiratorially at something on their phones and half-laughing, half-arguing.

"Where's Mum and Dad?" she asked, trying to get their attention.

Hunter raised his head from his phone, still giggling. "At a fundraiser with some old wigs," he said.

Miles burst into a wild laugh, and Frankie stopped to look at him, suspicious. Hunter was definitely not being that funny.

"Are you _drunk_?!" she asked him.

Miles could hardly contain his laughter. "Only a little," he slurred, holding out his finger and thumb to mimic how little.

"The heck, Miles, it's like four in the afternoon!"

Miles just chuckled in response, and Frankie turned to Hunter. "You say anything to him? Or are you two getting wasted together?"

"Gee, Franks. Do you even know me?"

"Anyway, if you excuse us," Miles cut them off, "Hunter and I here were in the middle of an important predicament."

Hunter smirked at their brother. "Oh yeah. Life and death, really."

Frankie rolled her eyes and set to leave. Behind her, Miles turned to Hunter and said, "Let's ask her, she might be able to help us settle this."

"Wait, what?"

"Hey, Frankie!" Miles called her back.

"Stop, what are you doing?" Hunter hissed in a panic. He was trying his best to grab the phone from Miles's hands, and he looked horrified.

"Gee, Hunter, it's just boobs. Don't be such a prude," mumbled Miles, taking his phone back.

Frankie felt all blood draining from her face. This… it couldn't be… oh, crap.

"You guys are disgusting!" she blurted out angrily.

She turned on her heels and ran inside, upstairs to her room. Where she could hide her face in her pillow and cry all she wanted about Power Cheer, and Zoë, and her stupid brothers buying pictures of her friends' boobs without even knowing. She wanted to call Winston and tell him everything, but could she? What would he think of her, then?

She spent the rest of the evening buried in her bed, too shattered to leave the comfort of her room. Maybe tomorrow she'd tell Winston what happened with Zoë. Winston would be on her side.

…

"Should we… wake him?"

Frankie stood hesitantly next to Hunter, not really knowing what to answer. When their dad had sent them to fetch their brother, they hadn't expected to find him still fast asleep.

"Miles…" she tried calling his name, with no success. "Miles. _Miles_!"

As her voice got louder, finally her brother half-opened an eye and looked in their general direction.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked – a little concerned, but mostly pissed off.

Miles didn't seem intentioned to get up, like at all.

"Dad says you have to drive us to school," Hunter then informed him.

"Get out!" was Miles's hasty reply, as he turned his back on the two of them and sank back into his pillow.

"No need to be rude…" remarked Hunter.

"Get out, _please_?" Miles murmured cheekily, his voice drowsy.

"Are you wallowing because Tris is still mad at you for blowing off your history project?" Frankie guessed, "Or are you hungover again?"

"Neither, I'm sleeping!" said Miles, mumbling something incomprehensible. Frankie turned to Hunter, at that, feeling at loss for words.

Right at that moment, their father walked into the room and, without warning, pulled all the covers off of their brother's bed.

"Fine example you're setting for your brother and your sister!" he scolded him, angrily.

"Does no one knock anymore?" asked Miles, running a tired hand over his face.

Their father turned to the twins, grandiosely gesturing at the spectacle in front of them, and started spilling out one of his lectures.

"If you just take a good look, this is everything that you want to avoid being!" he said, and Frankie started feeling a bit uneasy, at that. The feeling didn't improve as their father turned back to Miles, the volume of his voice mounting dangerously with each word. "Get out of bed, clean yourself up, you drive your brother and sister to school! No more skipping, or else!"

When Dad finally marched out of the room, Frankie quietly walked up to retrieve her brother's clothes from his chair, mostly to try and avoid looking at him. She didn't like listening to all this yelling, not one bit. It always made her feel funny. And yes, Miles was late and all, but she wasn't sure he deserved being treated this way. Hunter must have shared her feelings, because she overheard him saying, "He's probably just… stressed out about the campaign," referring to their dad.

"It's okay, Hunter, I've come to accept that I'm a perpetual disappointment," Miles stated coldly as he finally got up.

Frankie's hand then bumped into something bulky in the front pocket of his jacket. She dig inside to check what it was, curious, and saying she was surprised at what she found would be an understatement.

"Where the hell…?"

"Looking for this?" she asked, showing him what appeared to be four ounces of weed.

Miles had the decency to look guilty as he stared back at her.

"C'mon Frankenstein, give it back," he asked feebly.

"What, you can't go one day without getting high?"

"Now!" he demanded, suddenly sounding threatening.

"Fine," she conceded, throwing his stash at him, "But can you at least wait to smoke until _after_ you've driven us to school?"

She wasn't sure she'd done the right thing, giving it back to him. She knew Miles smoked, it's not that, but this looked like an awful lot of drugs to her, although she clearly wasn't an expert. She followed Hunter outside, feeling a sense of disappointment filling her. This wasn't the Miles she knew, skipping school every other day and fetching a joint first thing in the morning.

Most of all, she suddenly felt worried that something very wrong was going on with her brother, something she had missed.

…

So, the intervention might not have been the best idea, as Tristan had anticipated. When Miles walked in the room he immediately sensed that something was off, even before Hunter spelled out for his benefit what they were there for.

"You knew about this?" Miles asked directly to Tristan, his voice sounding disappointed.

"I was concerned about you… we all are," Tris replied softly, but it didn't seem to go down well.

"I can't believe you did this to me!" Miles accused him, vitriol in his voice.

Gathering her strength, and leaning just a little bit towards Winston for moral support, Frankie started listing all the symptoms of addiction, just like they had rehearsed, with one of the boys stepping in to "check" each of them: poor performance at school, mood swings, secretive behaviour…

"Okay, pot is not my problem, you people are!" Miles snapped, defensive.

"Hey! Don't be such a jerk!" she called him out, offended. They were doing this for him, after all.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I upset little Frankie?" he attacked her, staring right into her eyes and suddenly making her feel two feet tall. "Look, I know you want to play with the big kids, but the truth is you don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

Frankie was left gaping at him, and it took all she had in her to fight back the tears. She had hardly ever seen Miles this mad, let alone heard him yell at her this angrily. Winston placed a hand on the small of her back, and she held onto the feeling to avoid breaking apart.

"You don't mean this, you're just upset…" Tris chipped in in her defence.

"And you," Miles went on, turning his anger to him, "You went behind my back when I thought you were the one person who understood."

"Well, I do understand!"

"No! You're pathetic, you know that? Tristan, I treat you like absolute garbage and you keep crawling back for more, why? Are you really that desperate for somebody to love you?"

The room went completely quiet at the harshness of his words. Frankie could hardly believe this was her brother talking. Since when was Miles so downright cruel? Tristan looked obviously hurt by the outburst, and he and Miles stood frozen in their spots, staring down at each other.

"Screw this!" Miles finally mumbled, as he picked up and left.

They all were left to stare at his back while he rushed down the corridor. Tristan let out a loud sigh dropping down on the closest chair, and Winston placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him gently.

"Well… that went down well…"

…

Being trapped in the school during the fire was the scariest thing that had ever happened to her. And finding her brothers outside the school, as she finally walked out… Frankie had never been happier to see their stupid faces. They looked crazy worried, too. They almost jumped her, squeezing her into a tight hug. Miles ushered her to the ambulance soon after to get her checked out, and they both patiently waited until she got cleared.

And just as she thought the day was finally getting better, their dad showed up. He didn't even ask how she was, didn't even say he was glad she was ok. She had done this for him. Did he even know, or care? All she had wanted was to prove to him she wasn't guilty of the terrible things she'd been accused of, that she didn't undermine his campaign like he thought she did.

But then, out of nowhere, came the news he had hit Miles, earlier that same day. Her heart sank at Hunter's words, she couldn't believe it. She turned around, looking for her brother's eyes.

"He _hit_ you?" she asked, her voice shaking.

She didn't need him to answer, she could see it on his face: the way his expression changed, the shameful look, the way he avoided their gaze. And she could see it in Hunter's eyes, too.

Suddenly, the fire was not the scariest thing that ever happened to her, anymore.

…

A couple of weeks later, she was sitting in the den with Miles one evening, some mindless programme on TV glaring in the background. "We've seen Dad's new place, today," she told him, a bit hesitant.

It had been the first time she and Hunter had seen their father since the day Mum kicked him out, and it had been weird. Apparently, their parents had had a hearing with their lawyers, and decided that the twins should spend every other weekend with their dad. They had started slowly, today, just an afternoon visit, to get them used to the idea. Miles was over 16, meaning he could choose whether he wanted to see Dad or not, so they had obviously gone without him.

"It's a nice place, in a high-rise downtown," she continued. "The view is insane, and we have a room for ourselves, and-"

"Frankie," he interrupted her, wincing uncomfortably, "Can we please not talk about this?"

She nodded, silencing herself.

She was blabbering, anyway, she knew it. Truth is, seeing her dad had made her incredibly nervous, earlier, and she didn't even know exactly why. Maybe because last time she had seen him he had hurt her so much, with his careless words. Maybe because she still had flashes of him hitting her brother anytime she saw his face. Hunter had been a little tense too, at first, but she knew how much he missed Dad, even though he never showed it openly, so she hadn't really been surprised when he had warmed up to him quite quickly. She, however, wasn't quite ready to move on, not yet. Merely looking at her father gave her a stomach ache. Did this make her a horrible daughter?

She shot a glance to Miles, who seemed lost in his thoughts, still looking on the fence. What if she eventually _did_ move on, she wondered. Would that make her a horrible sister?

…

"So?" he asked her, expectation in his voice, "Have you told him?"

"Miles…"

She let out a sight, unable to look at him. Only yesterday, as she ran away from her own birthday party, all she had wanted was to never have to see their father again. But then they had talked, like _really_ talked, one on one, like it hadn't happened in months – years, even. And now… Frankie was confused, a turmoil of emotions inside her. She had cried, he had cried, they had been honest with each other in a way they never had before.

"What happened?" Miles asked urgently, misunderstanding her hesitation, "What did he do?"

She could see him getting agitated, and she stared right into his eyes to keep him grounded.

"He told me he's willing to work," she said, simply.

Miles looked astounded. "And… and you believed him?"

The hurt in his voice was hard to miss, and she lowered her gaze, nodding ever so slightly.

"I told him I'm willing to work, too."

A heavy silence followed her confession, and she could sense how Miles felt betrayed at her words.

"Why would you want to keep seeing him?" he exploded, "Have you already forgotten what he's done to us? To you?"

"Never!" she cried, tears already forming in her eyes, "I'll never, ever forget what he did!"

He was looking at her with puzzled eyes, like trying to understand her.

"Then why are you giving him a second chance?" he questioned in disbelief.

"Because, Miles. He's our dad!"

She saw that this wasn't what he wanted to hear; she saw a little piece of him breaking inside him.

"We might carry his name, but he's nothing to me. And I thought you wanted out, too!" he accused her.

"I did!"

"Then what changed?"

She shrugged, unable to answer, tears now rolling freely down her cheeks.

"Well, it's your choice. But don't come back crying to me, when he hurts you again," he spat out, as he turned his back on her and left.

…

The last few weeks of the term seemed to fly away in a whirlwind of stress, between family drama, schoolwork, and the musical. School was almost out, now, only finals left before the summer, and Frankie was ready for it. It was a Friday night, and she and Miles were going through a marathon of old seasons of Lost in the den when their mother nipped through the doorway.

"Frankie, your father called. He can't make it this weekend, so you and Hunter are going to stay here. Okay?"

Frankie stopped mid-air from stealing some pop-corn from the bowl Miles was hogging.

"Oh… okay," she said, feebly.

The atmosphere in the room was hardly the same, after that. She could feel Miles's eyes on her, and she could sense him internally debating whether to say anything to her. She knew he was uncomfortable, and it was making her uncomfortable. Truth is, she was disappointed, although she didn't want to say anything in front of her brother. Dad had promised to try harder, and yet this was already the second weekend he cancelled, and on top of that he had missed her musical performance, the other night. She knew his job kept him occupied most of the time, but she couldn't help feeling like he wasn't putting all his effort into their relationship.

Frankie barely paid any attention to the TV for the next half an hour. Once the final credits started rolling, Miles stood up and started clearing up the coffee table in front of them, piling up their mugs and dishes and wiping the crumbs from the surface.

"Wait, are we not watching another one?" she asked, confused.

"Nah, I'm going to bed."

"At 10 p.m.? It's Friday, Miles."

"Yeah, and I'm getting an early start tomorrow," he reminded her, "I'm trying to finish up my community service before summer and I still have a few hours to cram, so…"

He grabbed the pile of dirty dishes and headed over to the kitchen. After a beat, Frankie picked up the soda bottles and followed him.

So many things had changed, recently, there was no denying it. The mere idea of her brother being home, let alone sober and ready for bed, this early on a weekend night was pretty much foreign to her. And if she stopped to think about it, Frankie could point out a number of other subtle changes in Miles. He was keeping to himself a lot more than he ever had – what with Tristan dumping him, and all the hours of community service, and Winston ditching him for her or for the musical or both. Yet despite all this, Miles seemed… happier?

Frankie and Hunter were struggling to adapt to their new family dynamic, but Miles seemed to be flourishing in their father's absence. She tried to focus on this, instead of on her disappointment at yet another let-down. Plus, school was almost over, and summer practically upon them. Soon Frankie would get to spend much more time with her dad, once she started her internship at City Hall. One weekend was not such a big deal in the grand scheme of things.

She sneaked a look towards her brother, stuffing his face with the last of the popcorn before placing the empty bowl in the dishwasher. He was quieter, lately, but not in a bad way. More like he had finally dropped part of his old facade, the part he didn't want or need anymore. He was doing great in school, his average back up in every subject. He was staying out of trouble. He wasn't being yelled at, or beaten, or hurt. Things were good, and she was grateful for it.

…

July came and went. This summer was proving full of surprises, but none of them greater than seeing her brother waltzing in their patio with none other than _Zoë_ in tow, hands all over and eating each others' faces out not two meters from her. Frankie was so shocked that she didn't even say anything, at first, she just retreated in her room as quickly as she could. The sooner she got away from them, the better.

Now that Zoë had left, though, she was dead-set on giving Miles a piece of her mind.

"What, you're dating her now?!" she confronted him head-on. Her whole body was shaking with rage, and she could barely keep herself from exploding in front of him. Miles looked up to her from his seat on the sofa, eyes wide and apologetic.

"Well… yeah, I'm kind of seeing her again," he murmured sheepishly.

Frankie could not believe him. After all that Zoë had done to make her life miserable, How could he do this to her? Did none of that have any meaning, for Miles?

"Why?!"

"Franks, I'm not discussing my private life with you…"

"Well, in this specific instance I'd say you owe me that much!"

Miles took a deep breath at her outburst, probably trying to refrain from saying something he would later regret.

"Look, I know she hurt you-"

"She didn't just _hurt_ me, Miles!" Frankie cut him off, furious, "She forced me to sell naked pictures of myself, and then tried to blame it on me when it backfired! She ruined my life!"

"She screwed up, big time," he conceded, "But I, of all people, don't feel like I'm entitled to hold that against anyone."

She just stared right at him, without budging. She knew what he was doing, playing the pity card, but it wouldn't work.

"Hey, it's not like I'm in love with her or anything, okay?"

Was that supposed to make her feel better?

"Oh, so you're just doing it to make me miserable?" she retorted. Angry tears were making their way to her eyes now, much to her dismay.

Miles looked at her in astonishment, wide eyes betraying his confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about _you_ , Miles, screwing the girl who tormented my existence!"

It was the loudest she'd been in living memory – her throat burning uncomfortably from it – and Miles went completely still in front of her.

"I know you're mad right now," he said very quietly, purposely holding her gaze, "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't yell at me."

Frankie snorted. It was a bit rich, coming from him, wasn't it? Still, she dropped down on the sofa next to him, took a deep breath, forced herself to calm down and continue on more civil terms. It was something they'd talked about, in family therapy: how even though shouting might temporarily make us feel better, it doesn't do much to improve communication in the long run. It was funny how Miles, who had been the King of Yelling his entire life, was now the quickest to ascribe to this new philosophy.

"She's had a rough year, to say the least," Miles continued, "But before all of this happened, Zoë and I were friends. I'm willing to give her another chance."

It was hard for her to accept that. She sat quietly for a little while, his words resonating between them. When she spoke again, it was barely a whisper.

"She was my friend too, you know? Before everything," she reminded him, a tear escaping from her eyes, "And it still hurts!"

Miles didn't respond to that, but he hesitantly placed a hand on her knee. Frankie didn't protest, although the gesture didn't do much to make her feel better.

"I'm not asking you to stop seeing her," she continued – although a part of her _really_ wished she had the guts to demand just that. "I'd just appreciate it if you stopped rubbing it in my face."

She was surprised at the lack of vitriol in her own voice, she actually didn't sound angry at all anymore. Miles was eyeing her sheepishly, probably feeling a bit guilty about it all.

"I'm sorry, Franks," he said, his voice low.

Frankie stayed quiet, pulling her legs up on the sofa to hug her knees. She closed her eyes, trying to hide her tears from Miles. She felt him moving, getting up and shifting around her. He placed a gentle kiss on her head before leaving.

…

It was the last week of summer already, and some kids from school were throwing a party down at the beach at Bluffer's Park. It was a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for the occasion. And yet here she was, sitting on the sand by herself, wallowing in her own self-pity.

She didn't really feel like talking to anyone, but by the time she noticed Miles approaching her, she knew it was too late to avoid him.

"What's wrong, Frankenstein?" he asked, the slightest hint of worry in his voice.

Frankie felt his eyes on her as he stood there, hovering above her in anticipation.

"I messed up," she confessed, raising her eyes to meet his. "Winston broke up with me."

Miles face twisted into a kinder expression, the faintest sympathetic smile curving his lips. He crouched down on the sand next to her and he sighed, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You know," he said softly, after a few moments of silence, "it doesn't seem like it now, but you'll find someone better. Then, all of this will seem like it didn't even happen."

She turned to look at him, only to find him staring into the distance, above the water. Miles taking time to console her was not a scenario she had anticipated, she almost couldn't believe it.

He suddenly turned his head back towards her and gave her a mischievous smile.

"His loss, anyway," he commented, shoving playfully at her side, "You were _way_ out of his league…"

She chuckled, unable to help it. Disobedient tears had defied her will, by now, and her laugh came out as a choked sob. She sniffed, trying to wipe her face dry on the back of her hands. God, she was such a mess, Miles must think she was the biggest loser…

But he didn't. Her brother had a gentle smile on his face, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She leaned into his side and closed her eyes, feeling a bit sorry for herself.

"Come on," he finally said, when her breathing had gone back to normal and her tears had stopped coming, "Let's go dancing."

He stood up and held a hand out for her. She shook her head with a smile, looking at him from below, then grabbed his hand and let him pull her up. It was a party, after all. Time to have some fun.

…

"Whoah, what's that?"

Miles words reached her as soon as she left her room. School was back in session, which meant that although it was barely past seven in the morning, Frankie was already perfectly dressed. The same didn't apply to her dumb brother, who was sporting some navy blue joggers and a crumpled white t-shirt, his bed-hair a mess, and the most comical astounded expression on his face.

"What's what," Frankie confronted him, although she knew exactly where this was going.

Miles stared at her expressively. "Your hair?" he pointed out the obvious.

Frankie shrugged. "I just wanted to change."

"Not this change, you didn't," he decided.

"What the hell, Miles?!" she called him out. "It's way too early in the morning for your crap. Move!" And she went past him, looking forward to her breakfast downstairs. Miles wasn't of the same mind, and he just trailed on behind her.

"So, you're telling me it was intentional? You actually wanted these god-awful platinum streaks and all? You want me to believe this is not some type of twisted cry for help?"

"Gee, Miles, leave me alone, it's just hair!"

"Like, Hunter," he pulled their brother in as soon as he unknowingly opened his door to the hall. Hunter looked completely caught off guard.

"Ugh?"

"What do you think about Frankie's new style?"

Hunter's facial expression was screaming that he would rather be anywhere else right now.

"What about it?" he asked, drowsily.

"Haven't you noticed Frankie's new hair? Jesus, Hunter!?"

Hunter glanced uninterestedly towards her, looking unimpressed.

"Looks fine to me," he shrugged, and then swiftly defiled into the bathroom.

Frankie crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow to Miles. Miles rolled his eyes in response.

"Fine, whatever." He moved closer to her, hands raised in defeat. "Just know that you don't fool me for a second, sister."

And, with that, he ran downstairs to the kitchen.

Frankie stood behind, all appetite suddenly lost. She tried telling herself that Miles was just pissed, his stupid ego still crushed after Tristan stole the Student Council presidency from him, and he was taking it out on her. Who cared what Miles thought of her hair, anyway, right?

She just wanted to look different, and there was nothing wrong with that. All the changes of the last few months had changed her, too. All she wanted was to show on the outside just a little of what was going on on the inside. Because the thing is, Frankie had her heart stomped over and crushed into little pieces more times than she cared to remember, in the last six months: by Zoë, by her dad, by Winston. And it's not like she could talk to Miles about any of this, now, was it.

She just wished somebody would acknowledge that things were different, now, and that she couldn't just turn a new page and go on as if nothing happened. She wasn't the same girl she had been only months ago. And the thing is – she wasn't sure the people she loved would like this new Frankie as much as the old one.

…

It was maybe one month into Grade 10 when their mother announced she was seeing their father again. All Frankie could feel, underneath Hunter's excitement and their mum's reassurance that no, Dad wasn't going to move back in for now, was Miles tensing, hard as a piece of rock. She hadn't seen him retreating into his head like this since – well, since their father had left. She had almost forgotten what it looked like.

"Screw this…" he muttered under his breath as he stood up and left.

Her eyes rushed automatically towards Hunter, and she saw her own worry and concern reflected in her twin's suddenly smile-less face.

Later, at school, she realised that she hadn't even let herself process how she felt about the news. Things with her dad were going well; her summer job had been good on that front, and she could honestly say they had a better relationship now than they'd had in years. But she couldn't ignore Miles's reaction, his tense shoulders and bewildered eyes. She couldn't disregard the way his face dropped every time their father's name was mentioned. She couldn't forget, as much as she wanted to.

Again, just like that day after her Gatsby party, she felt like she had to choose between her dad and her brother. And it was a choice she wasn't prepared to make.

Her mum seemed determined to make it work, though, and family dinners with Dad became a weekly occurrence. Miles never showed up. The few times he did – an hour late, when all food was gone and their father was actually leaving – he was visibly drunk, or high, or both.

And she tried to see things from his side, she really did. She knew Dad had hurt him the most of all of them, and she appreciated he wasn't ready to forgive. Still, sometimes she wished he would just show up, for once, sit down next to her and eat his food, and let Dad at least _try_ to make amends. Was this too much to ask?

…

After breaking up with Winston, Frankie hadn't seen much of him – out of mutual desire to avoid any unnecessary contact. This made it all the more unexpected, when she suddenly found him asleep in her patio, of all places. She literally stumbled upon him, waking him up abruptly. He was waiting for Miles to show up for their history project, he said. He sounded quite exasperated.

"He never comes home anymore," she offered. She wasn't sure whether she'd said it to make him feel better, but it was true; Miles lately avoided their home like the plague. He avoided his friends, too. He spent all his time with that girl he was dating now, which was typical Miles, but it wasn't just that. He had changed, he was shady all the time. "He's on drugs…" Frankie hesitantly confessed, voicing her fears.

"I think he's on an entire pharmacy…" Winston flung back, a bit too casually for her liking. She was almost certain he was right, but still. This was her brother they were talking about. She didn't want it to be true. She wanted Miles to come back home, hang out with Winston as he used to, hell, she even wanted him to start teasing her again. Above all, she wanted him to pull out a casual joint and tell them, _Just kidding, this is the worst drug I've ever done!_

"What's wrong, Franks?" Winston cautiously asked, shaking her out of her thoughts. He was looking at her like he was genuinely worried about her, and Frankie imagined her face must be a picture, right now, to get this reaction out of him.

"This isn't your job anymore!" she hastily silenced him because _God_ , she missed him, right now. But she couldn't go all mushy on him, it wasn't fair. This wasn't even about Winston, this was about her life suddenly turning into a bad soap opera.

"I know but… you're sad, I'm here…" Winston started, not in the least affected by her attempt to push him away.

She didn't even realise what she was doing, but suddenly she was blabbering all sorts of things to him. How she felt like she didn't know who she was anymore; how her friends seemed to want her to act the same as she used to, but she couldn't just do that while she felt so different inside. Everything had been so much easier last year, she just wished…

"I wish we could go back," she found herself saying, without even considering the implications of her words, what Winston might think of them.

For a moment, she caught her breath in anticipation for his reaction. She wanted to bite her own stupid tongue, how could she have said something so senseless? It was true, sure, she wished she could go back. As in, back when life made sense, back when she wasn't constantly worried about Miles, back when her dad and her brother could be under the same roof without drugs being involved.

She looked sheepishly towards Winston, trying to check if she had completely freaked him out. She hadn't; Winston was looking at her with his gentle, caring eyes. Then, he gave her a soft smile.

"I wish we could, too."

…

The phone was ringing as she fidgeted nervously, waiting for Miles to pick up.

"Hello?" his voice finally said at the other end of the line, sounding like he had just woken up this minute.

"Good, you're not dead," she sighed in relief, "So where the heck are you?"

"Frankie?" he questioned, confused. _Yes, dummy!_ she wanted to scream, but she refrained from it.

"Mum said to get you up for school, but you're not here. So, I ask again, where are you?" she went on instead, and she couldn't help but notice that her voice came out nervous and broken. She wondered if he noticed it, too.

She couldn't understand his reply, as he mumbled something unintelligible about grass and trees, which made her sigh quietly in exasperation.

"Look, if you don't want to tell me where you are fine, but what do I tell Mum?" she asked, trying to suppress her worry. He was fine, he was talking to her.

She heard him hesitate, like he didn't know himself.

"Just… tell her that I'm at school early," he finally responded, almost making her laugh.

"Like anyone would believe that…" she remarked, sarcastic.

"Tell her I'm in the shower," he corrected his story. "I'm going to grab a taxi, I'll be home soon." A weird pause followed, in which she heard him cursing at something. "…except that I have no wallet!" he finally spat out.

"Check your pants!" she suggested, concern rising again: had he been attacked? Robbed?

"…Definitely not there," he retorted, a hint of something in his voice that she couldn't quite place.

"Then I guess I'll bring you some clean clothes…" she offered before hanging up. The day hadn't even started, and she was already feeling incredibly tired.

She would strangle him, one of these days, she thought, as she collected a clean pair of jeans and a shirt from his closet. She tossed them angrily in her bag, getting ready to lie to their mum to cover for him. She just hoped he was okay.

…

She couldn't believe their mother hadn't called them sooner. Apparently they had been in the hospital for a few hours already, when she finally thought to pick up the phone and call home. Frankie was hanging out with Hunter. They had finished their homework and were about to order in pizza, as nobody seemed to be showing up for dinner. Then the phone rang, and she picked up.

The words passed through her without her really grasping their meaning, at first. Miles. Hospital. Drugs. She blinked a few times in silence, staring straight into Hunter's eyes, but without even seeing him. She only realised he was talking to her when he started shaking her.

"Frankie!"

His eyes were wide and worried, and she finally got back into herself.

"We'll be there soon!" she whispered to her mum over the phone, before hanging up.

Hunter was still staring questioningly at her, waiting for an explanation.

"Miles's at the hospital," she said, plainly.

She saw his face drop, and she thought that this must be one of those rare moments in which they actually did look like twins, because she knew the panicked features in front of her were a perfect mirror of her own, down to the very details.

The rest of the evening involved a lot of waiting. Waiting for the cab; waiting for information at the hospital desk; waiting for their mother to come out of his room to meet them, only to be asked to wait outside to see him.

Frankie kept pacing up and down the corridor, and the only reason she didn't go completely mental was Hunter's presence, even though he was literally not doing anything, sitting in a corner with his headphones on, spacing out. It just made it somehow bearable, to know that someone else in close proximity felt exactly what she felt.

Their mother came to them, finally, announcing their brother was asleep.

"Can we see him?" she asked, rushing to her feet.

She nodded her permission. "Be quiet," she just said, and Frankie entered the room feeling like she was walking among clouds. It all felt surreal.

Miles looked smaller than she had ever seen him, buried in the hospital bed. He had a big square patch on his forehead, and he looked sweaty and tormented. Even in his sleep, his breathing was heavy and irregular. She wondered what he was seeing, in his dreams.

She took a seat in the plastic chair by his bed, and she felt Hunter approaching just behind her. She couldn't keep her eyes off Miles, although her vision was getting blurry with new tears. What had just happened? And, most importantly, why had she done nothing? She knew he was going down the hill, she had seen it, she had worried about him. The thought of what might have happened hit her right in her guts, and she suddenly couldn't breathe properly.

…

Hours passed in a haze. Both Hunter and her mother tried to get her to move from that chair, first to eat something, then to go home and rest, but they didn't succeed. She eventually dozed off for a little while, leaning over the edge of the hospital bed, Miles's sweaty hand in hers. Their mum was resting in a little armchair by the window, and Hunter alternated between sitting on the floor in a corner and venturing out of the room. He was out, right now, in search for some coffee, or some soda, she didn't even know.

She felt Miles waking up, before anything else. It was like an imperceptible twitch, and a feeling in her tummy, and when she raised her eyes to him she saw his were half open, looking drowsy but awake. Frankie leaned back in her seat, turning her head to search the room. Their mother was still napping, and hadn't noticed anything yet. Hunter was still out. She was alone with her brother.

She wanted to ask him, _How are you feeling?_ She wanted to know, _What happened?_ But the words died in her throat. Tears filled her eyes as she focused back on him, staring painfully back.

Her chest tightened uncomfortably, and a scary, abrupt fury suddenly overpowered her. She felt weirdly detached from her body as she rose from her chair, heart racing and head dizzy. Without warning, and surprising even herself, she suddenly stomped both her fists, hard, on his chest. And again. And again. A chocked sound escaped him, and she just kept going, letting out all of her frustration on him, and all the fear she had felt.

"What… _Francesca_!"

Her mother's voice reached her like in a dream, and she barely registered it. There was nothing else in the room, nothing apart from Frankie and her stupid, stupid brother, who took stupid drugs and passed out stupidly on the street, and was alive, _alive_ …

"You could have _died_!" she choked hysterically, her words unintelligible amongst her sobbing.

"Stop it, stop it this second!" her mum was yelling, while frantically crossing the room to reach her side of the bed.

But it wasn't her mother who eventually pulled her off of Miles. It was Hunter. She hadn't even heard him walk back in, but she suddenly felt his hands hold her decisively by the shoulders and force her up. She leaned back into him, letting sobs and tears completely overcome her.

An awkward atmosphere filled the air around them. Their mother was tearing up in silence at the foot of the bed, a hand covering her mouth. Hunter's arms were wrapped tightly around her body, blocking her movements. His head was so close to hers she could feel him breathing, warm air against her skin each time he exhaled. A fast heartbeat was filling her head, pounding like crazy, and she couldn't tell if it was hers or her twin's. And Miles, Miles was crying, too. His head turned towards the opposite corner, but she could still see it: hot tears tracing lines down his cheeks, skin red from the effort.

What had she just done? Of all the people who didn't need to be hit, Miles was on top of the list, and she knew it all too well. She felt a shameful sense of guilt expanding in her chest, stretching out until it filled her entire being.

Hunter loosened his grip around her, eventually, when she stopped shaking. He and her mother both tensed visibly as she moved back towards Miles, but they both relaxed as they saw her drop down at his side and lock her arms around his neck.

"I'm sorry!" she whispered in his ear. Miles didn't respond, he just wrapped his arms feebly around her. "You really, really scared me…" she continued, and her voice broke into a quiet sob.

She felt his grip tighten around her shoulders as he hid his face against her collarbone. His tears were wetting her shirt, reaching her skin underneath, and she thought that this was the absolute lowest she had ever seen her brother: scared, hurt, and drugged up, crying in her arms.

And she couldn't stop thinking how incredibly grateful she was that he was alive.


	2. Part II

**It took me well over a year, but I've finally managed to write the rest of this story! Takes off during the winter break between NC1 and NC2, and follows the events till the end of NC4. Enjoy!**

 **More notes at the end.**

* * *

BROTHER AND SISTER

II.

…

Christmas that year didn't really feel like Christmas at all, because Dad wasn't there. And yes, Frankie should have expected it; her parents had been separated since last spring, and even when they had started seeing each other again in the fall, Dad had never officially moved back in. Then the whole mess with Miles happened, and now their father was _definitely_ not coming anywhere near the house. Still, somehow Frankie imagined Christmas would have been an exception. For some reason, she had expected him to be there, sitting at his spot at the table, slicing the ham and passing the gravy and smiling wide while opening her presents.

That couldn't happen, obviously. Miles was still a nervous wreck every time anyone so much as acknowledged the existence of their father, thus expecting the two of them to be in the same room at the same time was just plain madness.

It still hurt, though. So much.

Their grandparents were missing, too. Things were just too complicated, this year, Mum didn't feel like seeing her in-laws, and having them over without Dad would have been awkward to say the least. So they had sort of, kind of, not been invited to come over. Sure, the three of them kids would go visit them, later in the day — making sure not to accidentally bump into their father, for Miles's sake. Hunter and Frankie had even spent the Eve with their dad, in his condo downtown. It just wasn't the same.

Nothing was the same. As they sat across each other in the formal dining room, eating roast on Christmas day — their mum, and Miles, and Hunter, and Frankie, and all that space for just the four of them… It just didn't feel right.

Even her brothers felt off, somehow, like they weren't the same persons she had grown up with anymore. Miles was this new and still unknown creature, who behaved so differently from her brother, and who constantly seemed on the verge of a breakdown. And Hunter… Frankie had been so worried about Miles recently that she had barely noticed at first, but Hunter was acting real weird, too. All that stuff that went down with the Gamers Club was just too crazy, even for Hunter, and on top of that he seemed to have parted ways with all his friends. He was just so angry all the time, the smallest of things was enough to tick him off. Just the other day, Frankie had made what she thought was an innocent joke and Hunter overreacted so hard it scared the hell out of her. She completely froze, watching him lash out, flip a chair to the ground, run upstairs and slam the door behind him.

Granted, Hunter had always had a bad temper, but he'd also always had an incredible patience around her. He didn't always listen to her, and his patience was more of the resigned, rolling-eye variety, but still. Hunter had always been the one person she could turn to with anything, and he would be there — from taking tennis classes with her although he hated them, when they were eight, to letting her copy all of his Maths homework since junior high, to lending her five grands when she needed the money, no questions asked. This angry, aggressive person, ready to flip out at any minor thing… he just didn't feel like her twin, at all. He felt like a stranger.

A stranger who picked up and left after eating maybe half of his meal, ignoring their mother's plea that they were about to open presents. Frankie turned to Miles as a reflex, and she saw the same worry in his eyes, too. Still, he didn't look at her. And Frankie didn't feel like asking him to talk about it, either. Miles was distant, and weird, and anyway he was about to leave for boarding school in two weeks. It was what was best for him, what he needed. Frankie just had to get used to go through things without leaning on him.

…

Frankie curled up in the passenger seat of her brother's car, her forehead resting on the cool surface of the window, Miles driving in silence next to her. It was a cold January evening and the sky was wet and grey, a tedious drizzle hitting the windscreen — the kind that makes it hard to find the right speed for the wipers. It matched her mood perfectly.

Today had been a long, difficult day. School had been a nightmare, with all the trouble with the volleyball team, the backlash of the prank they pulled on Northern Tech. Frankie knew deep down she should be paying more attention to what was going on there, instead of letting it slide around her and expecting Shay to step in to fix it, but at the same time it hardly seemed to matter.

Nothing really matters, as you drive back from the psychiatric ward after visiting your in-patient twin brother.

"You okay?"

Miles's quiet question interrupted her thoughts, breaking the silence between them. Frankie forced herself to nod in response, but Miles didn't seem convinced by it. His eyes kept switching towards her, concerned. Frankie pretended not to notice, and went back to gazing out the window at the blurred landscape they were speeding past. Miles was a bit too much right now for her to handle.

She was still mad at him, for once. He had known that Hunter was sick, he had known for weeks, and he hadn't told her. He hadn't told anyone, in fact, and instead continued to pack his stuff to spend the rest of the school year at that fancy boarding school. How could he have even considered leaving, knowing what he knew? What Hunter had done? Did they really mean this little to him that he could just shrug it all off and leave?

She was being unfair, Frankie knew this. She knew Miles cared about Hunter, and her, so much so that he wasn't, in fact, leaving. Maybe she wasn't even mad at Miles, but rather at herself — for being so dumbly blind, for missing the signs that her own twin was in desperate need of help. The scenes from earlier at the hospital kept replaying relentlessly in her memory, Hunter's cold anger — at her, at Miles — his mean words, his attempted escape. His desperate growls as the hospital staff grabbed him (harsh grips on his arms, why did they have to be this rough?) and pushed him back to inaccessible parts of the ward, where she couldn't reach him. Where she couldn't check he was okay, he was safe, where she couldn't lay down next to him and tell him not to be scared, that she was with him, she would always be with him.

Frankie took a deep breath to slow down her pounding heart. She could sense Miles's relentless glare on her, and she just wished he would stop, leave her alone to figure out her feelings. The sounds of the road, of the car, of the world around them, turned into an indistinct buzz in her ears, making her head dizzy. Frankie pulled her legs up towards her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees to try and keep herself together. She _really_ didn't want to cry, not here, in this car, next to Miles. Yet, her eyes were burning, her chest tighter with every shaky breath she took, an overwhelming sense of coldness expanding inside her as her racing thoughts kept spinning in her head.

She turned to Miles automatically, without thinking, and as their eyes met he made that face: the wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights, I-don't-know-what-to-do face that he always made at the sight of her tears. She immediately jerked her head away, wiping her cheeks angrily on the sleeve of her shirt.

The gravel screeched loudly underneath the tires as Miles pulled over at the side of the road and unhooked his seatbelt. She felt him shuffling around, and in the span of a moment his arms were wrapping solidly around her. He didn't say anything — there was nothing to say — but he moved closer to her, squeezing in next to her on the passenger seat. He kept her in a tight grip until the world around them seemed to disappear; there was just Miles left, the warmth of his body, his familiar scent, the soft cotton of his jumper. One hand cupped behind her head and the other gently rubbing up and down her back.

It took her long to calm down, neverending minutes spent sobbing in her brother's chest. Miles finally pulled back from her and slowly returned to his seat. She sent him a tentative glance, and to her surprise she noticed that Miles's eyes were misty, too. He was breathing slowly, leaning back into his seat and staring straight ahead. It saddened her to the core, it was all too much; Hunter in the hospital, all the distress they all felt, and on top of that knowing that Miles was hurting, too, but wouldn't let himself express it openly in front of her. She wanted to say something to him, but her throat felt like sandpaper and she had no clue how to comfort him while she was feeling so broken.

Eventually, Miles took the most humongous deep breath she'd ever seen anyone take, his chest shaking as the air flew out of his lungs. He just started the car, after that, and took them both home.

…

Things somehow shifted into a new normal. Despite all that was going on with Hunter, Frankie quickly came to realise she could not ignore the problems of her own making anymore.

"What's been going on with your volleyball team?" her mother confronted her one morning, causing her to jump in her chair.

"How do you know about that?" Frankie asked in dismay.

Her mother gave her one of her looks. "Your father called. Apparently these antics made the local news."

Frankie silently groaned. _Marvellous._

Her mother went on, "He said you're not answering your phone, is that true?"

"What has she done, now?" asked Miles, running down the steps two at a time and into the kitchen.

"Nothing," she blurted out, just as her mother said, "There's some sort of scandal around a prank her team pulled at school."

Miles looked alternately at the two of them, a suspicious look on his face. Frankie sighed loudly.

"Nothing, okay? I have it under control. You guys have enough to worry about, I can fix this on my own."

Mum grabbed her purse to leave, but not before sending her one more poignant look. "Just... answer your father's calls, okay? It sounded important."

As soon as she left the room, Frankie slumped down in her chair. Miles didn't miss it, already on alert mode at the mention of their dad.

"What was that about?"

"It's fine, Miles," she answered automatically, but then she stopped herself and backtracked. "Actually… it's not. I made a big mess, and now I don't know what to do."

She raised pleading eyes to him, and he took a seat in the chair next to hers.

"What happened?"

So she told him. About the prank, and the banner they drew, and how it all blew up and now everyone thought that she was racist and wouldn't let her explain. How she tried, and tried, but people kept twisting her words. How even Shay, her _best friend_ , had turned her back on her and kicked her out of the team.

Miles listened in silence to her rambling and took his time to process everything she was telling him, leaving her waiting on the edge of her seat.

"I don't think Shay actually believes that you're racist, Frankie," he finally said. "From what I hear, it sounds like you don't really want to admit that you made a mistake, and that it hurt her and those other girls."

And that… actually made a lot of sense.

"So… what should I do, now?"

"Just, apologise again. For real," he said. "And if someone misinterprets and thinks that you're racist… so be it. Their opinions are not what really matters."

Frankie looked at her brother, defeated. He was right, but it was easier said than done. Miles always made this not-caring-about-what-others-think sound so darn easy. Yet, Frankie knew that if she wanted to put this whole ordeal behind her, this was probably the only way to do it. Maybe she should start looking into a good self-help book on the matter…

"When did this happen?" she asked him, "When did you become such a level-headed wise guy and I such a… mess?"

Miles shrugged, a crooked smile curving the corner of his lips. "We're all a mess, Franks. Some of us just learn along the way how to hide it better."

That caught her off guard. "Wow. Deep. And… depressing?"

His face twisted into a slight smirk. "Only a little," he conceded.

"But you're doing better, now, aren't you?" she asked, hesitant. It was all fine and all, joking around, but when someone with Miles's personal history starts making cynical jokes, alarm bells should start ringing everywhere.

"I am. Much, much better," he said, serious yet gentle, as if he'd managed to read right into her soul. "Now, go get ready for school, and I'll drive you. But if it takes you more than five minutes I'm leaving without you!"

She scoffed, shaking her head. Some things truly never change.

…

They started going back to family therapy again, Frankie and Miles and their mother. Hunter would join once dismissed from the hospital, Mum said. She thought they might use some external help, just like last year during the divorce, and she probably had a point.

It happened at one of those sessions, just a few weeks in. Their mother cleared her throat nervously and said, "I would like to invite your father to join us for these meetings."

It was directed at no-one in particular, although it kind of sounded like she was asking for permission — whether from Ms. Walker, their counsellor, or from the two of them, Frankie wasn't sure.

Miles instantly went still at her words.

"I know things are difficult right now," their mother continued, "But I really think it would help. All that's happened recently, and your brother… we should talk about these things together, as a family."

There was a brief, tense pause, filled with awkward silence, and Frankie braced herself for the earthquake that was sure to follow. Miles was glaring at their mother, disbelief spelled clear as day all over his face.

"Are you insane?!" he finally exploded, "Are you seriously suggesting we all sit here with Dad?"

"I'm not saying he'd come home with us, Miles. I just believe there are things we should all talk about, with your father, too."

Frankie secretly agreed with their mother on this, although the way Miles was looking at her — like she'd gone completely mad all of a sudden — dissuaded her from voicing her opinion. Miles raised his chin the way he did when he was readying himself for a confrontation, resolution in his eyes.

"It's either me or him, Mum. I thought we were past that!"

"Miles, honey, you're overreacting…"

Miles's scoffed, hurt flashing through his eyes at their mother's remark, and Diana silenced herself at once, clearly regretting her poor wording. The atmosphere was so tense between the two of them, Frankie could almost feel her ears buzzing just by sitting at the edge of it.

Ms. Walker then cleared her throat, and the three of them nearly jumped out of their skin, heads turning towards the therapist as a reflex.

"Miles," she said, looking softly at him, "Why don't you explain in your own words how your mother's suggestion makes you feel?"

Their mum was staring expectantly at him, albeit sporting a noticeably less confident expression than Ms. Walker — and Frankie couldn't blame her, really. Miles frowned at both of them in turn, but then his shoulders slumped down, as if he'd lost all his fight, all at once.

"What's the point," he asked, sardonic, looking straight at their mother as he spoke. "She doesn't seem to listen to me, anyway."

As her brother left the room — in the same exact way that he had done so many times, over the years — Frankie could clearly see tears at the corners of her mother's eyes.

…

Despite her best intentions, things had gone way out of hand with the racism accusations. Everything sort of exploded at the Anniversary Gala, and now Frankie didn't even know where to start picking up the pieces. She had skipped school for four days in a row before getting caught, and going back had been every second as bad as she'd feared it would. Just one day back, and she knew she couldn't take it anymore. She ended up hiding out in Jonah's car, crying, and somehow managed to convince him to run away with her.

In hindsight, that had been a truly atrocious decision.

She had made a lot of mistakes, in the past weeks, and she had hurt a lot of people — her family, her friends, and now even Jonah. Granted, she hadn't _wanted_ to. Her life had been going down the hill since long before all this mess even happened, but what Frankie had finally come to realise was that she couldn't hide forever behind her family's problems. Everyone in life has problems. They're not an excuse for being a shitty human being.

The look of pure relief on Miles's face as she returned home after her runaway skit struck a deep chord with her. He held her tight in his arms without as much as a word, and only reluctantly pulled back when their mother joined them. Mum lectured her, and grounded her, and then hugged her tight herself, saying how glad she was to have her back home. Miles stuck around until their mother left them alone, and only then came to sit on the bed next to her and talk. It was emotional, and hard. It was the first time she admitted out loud how wrong she had been. Miles didn't pass on judgement — which was one of the best qualities about her brother. She wanted him to know how much she regretted all the drama she had caused, but she knew there was no need to put it in words. He'd already forgiven her.

It had taken her a while, but Frankie was finally ready to do the work to make things right again. She decided then and there that she would stop complaining, and start listening. She would take responsibility, and apologise to everyone she'd hurt, and she would wait patiently until Shay was ready to forgive her. One day, hopefully not too far in the future, things would be good again.

…

Hunter was finally coming home. All the drama of the past few weeks meant Frankie had sort of neglected visiting him as often as she should have, and now she felt equal parts relieved at the prospect of having him back, and guilty for how bad of a twin sister she had been. Mum had gone a little overexcited, and planned a whole celebration for the afternoon. Miles rolled his eyes at the idea, but after all, throwing a party seemed to be how their mother showed her affection. At least this time she had managed to scale it down to something Hunter might actually enjoy. Just a few close friends, some games, no fancy anything. The beautiful sunny day helped, too.

No matter how much she'd waited for this day, Frankie still got giddy at the sight of her twin standing in the doorway of their home. He looked a little awkward, too, a little hesitant. But he smiled wide the moment he saw her.

She closed the distance between them and launched into his arms, squeezing all the air out of him in a move worthy of a tentacled creature.

"It's so good to have you home," she whispered, their heads so close that only he could hear her.

Hunter tightened his grip around her back. "It's good to be home, too."

It felt a little strange at first, a bit too much tiptoeing around from everyone involved. But then Hunter's friends showed up, and things got more natural. They played Magic, and ate cake, and then she almost lost track of her newly-returned brother as she went down a gossiping spiral with Vijay.

Before they even knew it, the sun was setting, their guests were leaving, and Hunter looked ready to collapse any second. He had done more socialising in one afternoon than in the past two months combined, and he looked shattered, but happy.

As Hunter disappeared upstairs, heading straight to bed, Miles dropped down next to Frankie on the sofa in the den.

"Happy to have him back?"

Frankie couldn't hide a smile. "It's a bit unreal, isn't it? It feels like it's been forever, but at the same time it's like he never even left."

"I know what you mean."

"It was nice, seeing him with his friends. He seems happier, doesn't he?"

Miles leaned back in the sofa, a soft grin on his face. "Yeah, he does."

Frankie snuggled up to his side, and he put an arm around her. She realised it was the first time all term that she felt calm, like the dark cloud that had been with them for a while had finally lifted. Granted, things were not magically solved; Hunter still had charges against him that wouldn't go away just by not thinking about them. But he was home, relatively healthy and happy. It was a start.

"What was that about, with you and Tris at the party?" she then asked Miles, thinking back to their rather abrupt disappearance, earlier in the afternoon. "Are you guys broken up for good?"

Miles remained quiet, but he turned a very suspicious shade of red around the ears, and something clicked in Frankie's head right that instant.

"Oh. My. God."

She sat up abruptly so that she could look him in the eyes.

"Oh my god, you had _sex_?"

"Jesus, Frankie!"

Miles squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, but she kept staring him down, relentless.

"So, all that moaning, this morning? About Tristan not wanting you?" she pestered.

"Okay, first of all, I don't moan," he said, and she rolled her eyes at him, scoffing. Yeah, sure.

"We… didn't break up?" he offered with a cocky grin, one that said exactly what he meant by it. And seriously, Frankie didn't need to be reminded of yesterday's incident. Walking in on him once had been traumatising enough.

"Ew. Ew!" she screeched, covering her eyes in a vain attempt to block the all too vivid images replaying in her head.

Miles stifled a laugh at her exaggerated display of disgust, and that somehow managed to diffuse the awkwardness between them. She removed her hands from her face, offering him a weak smile.

"Sorry, I'm being silly," she said, "I'm happy for you guys. You deserve to be happy."

Miles raised an eyebrow, and — fair enough, that was quite sappy. He shook his head and pulled her back in, planting a kiss on top of her head. "You're such a dork," he said, his tone laced with affection.

She punched him half-assedly on his leg, and proceeded to make herself comfortable against him.

"Sooo… gossip time?"

"Get lost."

…

Things seemed to be finally looking up. In hindsight, that should have made her suspicious, as it was a well-known fact of life that the Hollingsworths could never catch a break. But it was her first game back with the Team, and Frankie was over the moon to have finally made up with Shay. It was a big deal, too, the first time Degrassi qualified for City Finals in half a decade.

The news of the accident reached them right after the game, videos frantically checked on the little screens of their phones, hands on each other's shoulders just to be able to keep standing. To keep breathing.

A freaking bus crash.

The mess that followed was that of too many panicked people running into the same parking lot, rushed arrangements made to ensure everyone was accounted for, how many people in which car and with whom. Frankie sneaked in the back of Miles's, squeezed in between Shay and Lola, while Zoë sat up front. They were all in such shock that Frankie didn't even question why Zoë, of all people, was riding with them. Winston would take Hunter home (why was Hunter even here, again?) and come meet them afterwards.

Hours passed. The emergency room looked like one of those medical dramas on TV, stretchers being pulled and pushed around, doctors and nurses hurrying between one bloody body and the next. For a while, they all lost sight of each other, scattered in search of their people in the meanders of this aseptic labyrinth, lists of names being hushed around like hot gossip.

When Frankie eventually reconvened to the waiting room, desperate for a hot cup of coffee and even just a corner of a plastic chair to crash on, her tired eyes caught sight of Miles, standing at the other end of the room with his back towards her. He looked like a nervous mess, his left leg twitching uncontrollably, and her heart dropped at the sight. Was he really still waiting, after all these hours? Forgetting about the chair, she quietly approached him instead.

"Hey… How's Tristan, any news?"

Miles shook his head in silence, eyes staring vacantly towards the other side of the double door, the part of the world they were cut out of.

"Nobody knows anything, not even his parents," he told her. He was biting his nails raw without even noticing, and Frankie automatically took his hand into both of hers and gently pulled it down to stop him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying her best to keep her voice steady. This sounded bad, but he really didn't need her to freak out on him, right now.

Miles evaded her question, jerking his head in the opposite direction and taking one more deep breath to steady himself.

"What about Jonah, is he all right?" he asked, instead.

"Jonah's fine, he's got a broken leg. He needs surgery, but he'll be fine. His family's with him, they just got him into a room."

"Good... good." Miles sounded distant, her words barely registering with him. "It must be such a relief. Are you going with him?"

Frankie shook her head, tears burning at the back of her eyes. She pushed them down with resolution, now was not the time to cry.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying with you."

Miles turned in surprise, looking straight into her eyes in that super-intense way he had. She could see everything spelled out on his face, how scared he was, how close to breaking down. He seemed to be debating something in his head, and Frankie thought he was about to tell her no, go home, don't worry about me. She was mentally preparing to hold her ground, to repeat she wasn't leaving, to take his hand in hers and wait with him through however long it took. But, in the end, he only said one word.

"Thanks."

…

Tristan's coma had hit them all hard, but clearly no-one as hard as Miles.

Miles had been at Tristan's bedside since the crash, almost nonstop for weeks now. He was going through the motions, barely registering time passing, and some nights he came home and went straight to bed without as much as a word to the rest of them. And Frankie knew she was being unfair, because god knows she'd be the same if it were Jonah instead of Tristan, but she couldn't help a really bad feeling about it all. It was something in his drained face, in the dark circles under his eyes, in the exhausted persistence that got him out of bed every morning and to the hospital. She couldn't help feeling that her brother was wasting away in front of her eyes, until one day he'd drive himself sick.

"I'm worried about him," she confessed to Jonah one Saturday afternoon. They were sitting by the pool — her mum was away for the weekend, hence Jonah at her house — and both their phones had just buzzed with Miles's latest update from the hospital. Jonah had quickly gazed over his notification before discarding it, the memories of the crash still too fresh for him to endure the constant stream of pictures from her brother.

Frankie sighed. "I just wish there was anything I could do to make him feel better."

Jonah reached out for her hand, squeezing her lightly. "You are, Franks. I'm sure your brother knows you're there for him."

Frankie wasn't convinced it was enough, though, especially given how Miles hardly talked to her, these days. She wished she could do something more, something tangible to show him that she cared, to remind him that there were people around him who loved him and were willing to help.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the reminder for Tristan's birthday showed up in her calendar, that an actual idea started forming in Frankie's head. What if they planned a surprise party?

She tentatively ran the idea with Jonah, to see what he thought. After all, Tristan himself was still unconscious, a fact that hardly needed celebrations. Would a little feast be insensitive? On the other hand, it could be just what they needed to lighten the mood a little.

Jonah smiled wide at her, his face softening and full of affection. "I think it's perfect, Frankie."

All was set in motion, after that. Shay was sent on a hunt for party-hats and decorations, and Jonah would bring his guitar. That left Frankie and Lola to take care of the cake — and luckily Lola was a better baker than she was, what with her Cantina experience and all.

The cake turned out lumpy and awkward, the frosting barely hiding how wonky it was, but the smile on Miles's face as she handed it to him, candlelit and all, made it all worth it. Frankie hadn't seen Miles smile in weeks, she had almost forgotten what it looked like.

And she couldn't stop smiling back at him.

…

Weeks passed in a haze, each one identical to the next. This summer felt like the longest in history, and at the same time it was just gone in the blink of an eye. In a way, she had wasted it — no internship and no trips abroad, just long days by the pool with Lola and Shay, or Jonah, and long evenings at home with Hunter in between the hearings for his case.

School was starting again, thought, and all three of them would be back at Degrassi — Miles for the last time. So many things were different this year. Her brothers were different, one of them on probation and the other sleepwalking through life, after months of bleak days at Tristan's bedside. Their classmates were different, so many of them affected by the horrors of that bus crash, either for living it or because someone close to them did. And Degrassi itself looked different, with all the new colourful posters, and "safe spaces", and prayer rooms for the incoming Syrian refugees.

And even the things that should feel familiar (like Miles getting detention, how new) somehow felt off in this new light.

"Jonah told me you had a sort of breakdown in class today," she said, checking on him as she got home after practice, that night. Miles was hiding in the library room, scribbling down in a notebook, apparently intent on ignoring her attempt at conversation. She didn't budge, though, and took a seat next to him. "Did you really get into a fight with Esme? Over those pictures of Tristan?"

Miles slammed his notebook shut and threw it at his side, making her jump in her skin. "Back off, Frankie, okay? I just had a really crap day."

"Alright, I- I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

He toned it down a little as he realised he'd startled her. He leaned back into the sofa, running a hand over his face and taking a deep breath.

"I am. I'm sorry. Everything is just a bit hard right now."

She didn't know what to say to make him feel better, so she didn't say anything. She scooted a bit closer to him and laced an arm around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder.

They sat there in silence for a while, until neither of them knew how much time had passed.

…

She was sitting with Lola over lunch just outside the school, enjoying one of the last warm days of the season. Jonah had a meeting with Grace and Maya for their music project, and Shay was off with Tiny, so that left the two of them. It was nice, it had been a while.

Frankie was venting about how busy Jonah suddenly was, with Lola punctuating her rant with sympathetic noises while keeping up with her stream of incoming Oomfs. Not that Frankie minded; she was used to it, and Lola was a natural multi-tasker, anyway.

A familiar face suddenly popped up on the screen, causing a genuine smile to spread over Lola's face. Frankie still found it a little weird, her brother and her bestie being friendly, but she was happy to roll with it. She knew first hand how good of a friend Lola was, and Miles sure needed one at the moment.

"I think it's really nice, what you're doing for him," she told her.

Lola raised her eyes from her screen for the first time today, probably, her smile replaced by a confused expression.

"Uh?"

Frankie motioned to Lola's phone. "Miles? You gave him a job at the Cantina, didn't you?"

"Oh, that. We were really just overbooked, could use some extra help."

"Regardless. Everything has been so tough for him recently, he seems like a new person since he started hanging out with you."

"I like your brother," Lola declared softly. Her face dropped as she registered how wrong that sounded, and she rushed to clarify, "I mean… he's not as cute as you, obviously. But he's nice. You're a good breed, you Hollingsworths."

Frankie chuckled, shaking her head. "Relax, Lo, I know you're not after my brother!"

"Uh?"

Lola's face looked like a picture, Frankie had to struggle real hard not to burst out laughing at her.

"I'm not so stupid to believe those rumours," she said with a smile, "People think that just because you two talk it must mean you're hooking up. Please!"

Lola let out a little nervous laugh of her own. "Yeah. That's totally crazy."

"I know, right? But… I'm glad he has you," she added, suddenly serious. "He won't talk to me, and at this point I really don't know who else is there for him. Winston's so busy recently, and even if he were around, they were never the type of friends to talk feelings. I'm more at ease knowing you're keeping an eye on him." Her voice lowered to a whisper, her eyes shying away from Lola. "I just… I don't want to see him spiralling down, again."

She must have looked miserable, because the next thing she knew Lola was hugging her tight, soft and warm and caring.

"He won't," she whispered in Frankie's ear. "It's not like last time. He's stronger, now."

Frankie nodded, unable to put a sentence together. Lola leaned her head on her shoulder, and Frankie realised how much she had needed this, her best friend.

"You're right, he is," she said.

Everything was going to be fine, this time.

…

Frankie dropped down next to her brother on the sofa, causing Miles to look up from his laptop.

"So, you're writing a play now, I heard?"

It had been quite the surprise when Jonah told her that Miles had joined the Theatre Club as their playwright for the Winter production. But then again, seeing how Miles was scribbling down frantically in all his free time, maybe she shouldn't have been surprised at all. It still felt weird to think of him as part of a club, though. If you didn't count his failed attempt at Student Council over a year ago, the last time Miles had been involved in anything school-related was the basketball team in grade 10, and that's only because Dad made him. School spirit and her brother weren't really a thing.

Miles turned a bit red around the ears and sunk his head between his shoulders. Still, despite the slight air of embarrassment, he could barely hide his excitement. Frankie struggled to contain a smile, feeling strangely warm and fuzzy at the sight of her nerd of a brother. She sure as heck wasn't going to be the one discouraging him from it.

"Wait… is this it?" she asked, pointing at the laptop balanced haphazardly on his thighs. She grinned wide and asked, "Can I have a sneak peek?"

Miles tilted the screen away from her. "When it's done, maybe."

"Okay, Mr. Secrecy," she laughed, "What's it about?"

His face dropped slightly, and Miles lowered his gaze to the ground.

"It's… kind of about the crash. About, you know, Tristan, and the crash."

"Oh."

She didn't know what else to say. Of course that's what he was writing about, it was so painfully obvious she wanted to kick herself. She even knew that Jonah and Grace were writing music based on their memories of that day, how could she not make the connection?

Miles seemed pensive, distant. He was doing that thing he did when he retreated into his head and forgot the world around him. It scared her a little every time she saw him like that, although she knew it wasn't fair.

"Well… I can't wait to see it," she told him, honest. He raised his eyes to meet hers, coming back out of his head.

And he smiled.

…

It was supposed to be a girls night. Really, it was. And Frankie knew that throwing a party when their mother was at that yoga retreat was stupid, and a bad idea, but when the opportunity came she just couldn't resist it. Jonah had been so distant, lately, and she needed some quality time with him. And if opening her house to Tiny and the rest of their friends was the price to pay for it… well, so be it. Clearly there was enough space in the house for the whole gang to hang downstairs while she and Jonah enjoyed her bedroom, or so she thought.

Except, when it came to it, Jonah totally rejected her.

It hit Frankie harder than she cared to admit. Like, weren't guys supposed to want it all the time? Jonah panicking at the sight of her breasts could only mean that there was something wrong with their relationship. With her.

She felt humiliated. She rushed off her bed, desperate to put some distance between herself and Jonah, and in the process she managed to knock off the candles that she had lit for atmosphere. What happened next felt like a blur, her bench catching fire, the alarm setting off, and Miles bursting into her room with the sheerest panic on his face.

Frankie wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear.

"You okay?" asked Miles, turning towards her after suffocating the flames.

She practically jumped to grab the first thing she could find to cover herself with, and only managed the slightest nod in response.

"I think I should go," Jonah muttered from the opposite side of her room, "Can we talk later?"

Miles was standing cross-armed next to her, and Frankie wanted to cry.

"I think I need a little space," she answered in a tiny voice. Jonah stood there flabbergasted for a long, uncomfortable moment, but then he finally stopped staring at her and left.

Frankie had hardly ever felt this mortified in her life. As soon as the door closed behind Jonah, Miles turned his attention back to her, concerned.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked her again.

She sniffled back her tears and forced herself to nod a bit more convincingly. Miles was shuffling on his feet next to her, and she quietly slipped on the pink robe she had just picked up, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

"Did he… Frankie, did he, like, pressure you or something?" he asked her, hesitant.

"What? God, no, Miles..." She felt her face heat up, and yet raised her eyes to meet his, "If anything I did…"

Miles's face twisted into a slightly disgusted expression. "Okay, I _so_ didn't need to know this…"

An uncomfortable silence crept upon them as they stood awkwardly next to each other, Miles towering over her. After a few excruciating moments, the silence was suddenly busted by a… chuckle? Frankie glanced up in surprise and she found Miles barely containing a fit of laughter. She looked at him wide-eyed for a moment, but then she couldn't help cracking up at his ridiculous face. That was it; it broke both of them, reducing them to a giggling mess. Miles had to sit down on her bed, his legs unable to keep him standing, and they both ended up holding their side in pain at the absurdity of the entire scene.

When they finally managed to recompose themselves, Frankie had literal tears in her eyes. Miles leaned back a little, looking affectionately at her.

"Do you want to come hang in my room?" he asked her, "It smells like burnt chicken in here."

Frankie pulled a very eloquent face. "It does, right?"

And Miles just smirked, shaking his head. He leaned in closer to her and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

"Let's go, pyromaniac…"

…

Tristan had finally woken up, and now Miles was back to visiting the hospital at any given moment he didn't have to spend in school. Yet things were hardly back to normal, and Tristan was not exactly _back_ , either. The months in a coma had taken their toll on him, and it quickly became clear that the road to recovery was going to be long and uncertain. Miles tried his best to pretend everything was fine, but Frankie could see right through the act.

She'd never question that he was happy, and grateful, and relieved that Tristan had made it out alive. Of course he was. Yet, the reality of the situation had hit him hard, and there was no denying that it was affecting him; Miles was once again irritable and snappy, the dark circles creeping back under his eyes.

He was barely at home, these days; he was skittish all the time, obsessing over the play and compulsively rewriting parts of it, driving everyone around him crazy. The other day Lola even let it slip up that Miles had lashed out at her during rehearsals — and if Frankie weren't this worried she would have probably given him a piece of her mind. How dare he mistreat her best friend? Especially since Lola had been nothing but nice and supportive.

"He seems worse than before, don't you think?" she asked Hunter. Miles had just got back home from school, changed in a hurry, and headed off again to the hospital. All of this without as much as a word to either of them.

"Give him a break, Franks, he's just stressed," said Hunter.

"That's exactly what worries me though. We both know he doesn't have the best record at dealing with stress." She paused, unsure whether to bring this up at all. "I'm worried he's going to hurt himself," she finally whispered.

Hunter sighed loudly, but then dropped the controller and switched off the TV, turning his full attention to her.

"He's stronger than you give him credit for, you know?" He paused, looking uncomfortable, but then added, "If it weren't for him… things might have gone down a lot differently, for me."

His words made Frankie shiver to the bones. They never talked about what almost happened last winter, it was too heavy to be spoken of.

Hunter was right, though; it was time for Frankie to have some faith in their brother. One cannot conquer their demons overnight, but Miles had shown them time and again that he was sure as hell trying to.

…

"Are you still watching Lola's video?"

Miles looked up deer-in-headlights from his screen, and Frankie shook her head lightly at him as she took a seat by his side.

"That was weeks ago. Why are you so caught up in it, still?"

Once more, Frankie found herself thinking how infinitely more resilient girls were than boys. Here was Lola, who had found out she was pregnant at sixteen, dealt with it alone, and turned it into a proud statement to the world, and she was doing _fine_. Meanwhile Miles, who had been her friend for, like, five minutes, seemed unable to process what had happened, to the point you would guess _he_ was the one who had an abortion.

She could still picture his exact face when she first told him. She got it, really; no one wants to find out a friend they care about had to go through something so traumatic. But, again, Lola was doing great, and Miles could see it for himself every day at rehearsals. But apparently it wasn't enough.

"Have you seen what people are saying in the comments?" he asked her, agitated. "It's awful, Franks. Why are people so mean?"

Frankie sighed. So this was it, then.

"Well, Miles, I hate to break it to you, but the world is full of assholes. Specifically, assholes who don't believe women should be able to make this type of choices."

"Can you be serious for a moment?"

"I am!"

She was. Her tone might have been sarcastic, but she stood by what she said. It was no news to anyone that girls were endlessly shamed for things that require two people to happen, while guys could go on like nothing affected them. They were not the ones who had to deal with consequences, after all — as Lola's experience proved.

Miles pressed his fingers on his temples, glancing down the comments section once more.

"How is she dealing with this?" he asked her.

"Oh, she's not reading them."

He raised his head to look at her, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah, no way. She knew this was going to happen. She's not stupid, Miles."

Miles slumped down against the backrest, and finally closed off his laptop. "No, she isn't."

Frankie curled up in her corner of the sofa, hugging her knees. She was a bit torn, seeing Miles this invested — after all, Lola was _her_ best friend. She hadn't realised exactly how close those two had become over the past months, and she didn't know how to feel about it. She nearly asked him whether he knew who the father of Lola's baby was, but then decided against it. If Lola had not even told her and Shay, she sure wouldn't have told _Miles_ , of all people.

"You look pensive. Everything alright?" he asked her, and she shook herself back to the present.

"Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

"How are things going on, with you? We haven't talked much since, you know."

She smiled a sad smile. Her recent breakup with Jonah was the latest unspeakable, in the Hollingsworth household, and things were especially weird with Miles since he was spending so much time with her ex for the play.

"I'm fine, really," she told him. "It's hard, obviously, I miss him a lot. But it was all my own making, from that stupid break, to my paranoia, to hacking into his messages. I have no one to blame but myself."

Miles gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry it came to this."

She sighed, leaning back into the sofa. "Yeah. Me too."

…

It was finally the night of the play. Miles had been slightly neurotic all day, and even Lola who generally walked through life unfazed showed little signs of stage-fright. The reason became apparent once Frankie saw them on stage: those two were carrying the entire show, with a little help from Rasha in a selected few scenes. If you asked Frankie, though, they had nothing to worry about. They absolutely killed it, displaying a chemistry that far surpassed what Frankie would have expected.

All thoughts of Lola and Miles quickly disappeared, though, as Frankie found herself fully immersed in their characters. In truth, the show hit her like a ton of bricks. Thinking of Jonah was painful, these days, but even she had to admit that his and Grace's soundtrack was perfect. It transported her right back to the day of the accident, forcing her to relive it all over again. And the script itself, just wow. It was as if Miles had slashed his soul open and laid it there on the stage for all of them to see. She never knew that he had it in him to write something so honest, and raw, and beautiful.

The lights turned off after the final embrace between Hero and Coma Boy, and the audience erupted in a roaring applause. As she joined the standing ovation around her, though, her eyes caught an unexpected sight, and Frankie stilled in surprise. It was no trick of the lights, it was really her dad, quietly defiling at the back of the auditorium. She truly hadn't expected him to show up, and in fact, she wondered if Miles even knew about it. With all that had gone down in the past few years, it was a big step for their father to be here, and Frankie quietly smiled at her secret knowledge.

She left the auditorium with Hunter and their mum, gathering with everyone else in the Student Council Office for the afterparty. It was a happy moment, the first in a long time. Tris was there, Miles was radiant, everybody kept gushing over the play.

They didn't know it then, but all hell would break loose within the next hour. Right as they opened their bottles and cheered to Miles's success, in fact, someone they all knew was being rushed to the hospital, battling for her own life. Zig would come running into the party, white as a ghost, looking for Jonah and Grace, Tristan and Miles, anyone who needed to know. His panic contagious, in the mess that followed, distressed people and tears and hugs, and rushing to the parking lot and looking for a ride to the hospital.

In that mess that hit them all like a punch, Miles suddenly locked eyes with her, a void, disoriented expression on his face.

"Go," Frankie urged him, "I'll get Mum, we'll see you at home."

Miles kept staring at her as if he were trying to focus. He finally nodded back to her, eyes so deep and dark it hurt. He leaned gently towards Tristan — who looked more than a little spaced out, staring vacantly into nothing in particular — and whispered something in his ear, moving his wheelchair outside the doors.

"See you at home," he said as he passed by her. She just nodded, speechless, squeezing his arm briefly before letting him go.

Later that night, curled on the sofa in the den, Frankie was shaken out of her semi-vigil wake by the sound of the front door closing. She propped herself up, and caught sight of Miles standing by the doorway, perfectly still.

"You're up," he stated, not really a question.

"How is she?" asked Frankie, a chill running down her spine.

He nodded at her briefly, and she took a sigh of relief. He had texted, before, five rushed words typed from the chaos of the hospital — _she's gonna make it_ , just that. She had needed to see it on his face in order to fully believe it, though.

Miles walked in silence towards the sofa and slumped down next to her. He looked completely defeated. He ran a tired hand up and down his face, sighing loudly as he leaned into the backrest.

"I'm really sick of hospitals…"

His muttered words hit her like a punch and she stared at him, speechless. He sounded so much older than any 17-year-old ever should, and it was so unfair. Miles didn't deserve this, not again. He didn't deserve to almost lose yet another person he cared about.

Miles turned his head towards her, and Frankie glanced up to him. Even in the darkness, she could easily make out the dark circles underneath his eyes. She felt physically unable to smile, but she forced herself to at least nod in acknowledgement.

Maybe one day they'd finally all catch a break. She was still waiting for that time to come.

…

And, just like that, it was Christmas again. Their parents were no less divorced than they had been last year, but so many things had changed in the past twelve months that this time around they thought they would make an effort for the Holidays, try and spend just that one day together.

It wasn't all smooth, all of a sudden. It was weird, in fact, having Dad back at the house after all this time. They were all moving a little differently, a little off — as if they didn't quite know how to act around him anymore. She could see it in her brothers, in Hunter's suspicious sideway glares, in Miles's circumspect movements and evasive eyes. And even their mother, who was effectively the initiator of this whole thing… Frankie could tell it wasn't as natural for her to resume the wife role to their father's husband.

Things were never going to be back to how they were, and that's okay. Frankie herself must have changed and grown, since last year, for her to realise this. That she could enjoy spending Christmas with her family even knowing that Dad would go back to his apartment at the end of the night. And it was okay.

Some little things surprised her, still. She had expected Miles to antagonise the move, to make life difficult for their parents and to otherwise ignore Dad as much as possible. And yet he didn't. He wasn't exactly warm towards him, either. But he sat down through the entire dinner, and made small talk, and gave updates on Maya and Tristan when Dad asked. He even volunteered that he was thinking of applying to Queen's business programme, much to everyone's surprise. Their father responded with a look of pure joy on his face, one that Frankie had hardly ever seen him direct to her older brother.

Maybe, this time, things were actually going to turn out okay. It was more than Frankie would have expected, and she was happy with it.

…

The relative quiet of the Holidays left room for a fresh wave of drama as soon as school started again. On the very first week of the new term, while unsuspectingly hanging out at that stupid FunFair, Frankie was caught entirely off guard at the sight of Jonah singsong-ing his devotion to no other than Grace, and in front of the entire student body, no less. After all the months of him swearing he was not into her, the liar! Frankie felt completely shattered, and humiliated. It had been a mere six weeks since their breakup, and she had not-so-secretly harboured hope to be able to mend things, with him, but now it was clear she had been delusional.

After wallowing in self-pity for a reasonable amount of days, Shay and Lola finally pushed her to move on and do something proactive, to at least fake it until she made it. It was easier said than done, though, as Lola and Shay were too busy to help her find distractions, and Frankie had not realised how much she'd depended on Jonah to fill up her time. Yet, in her newfound determination to 'win' the breakup — as Lola liked to put it — Frankie found unlikely allies in the last people she would have thought of: Esme and Zig.

It had been quite a long time since the bad days, when Frankie simply couldn't see Esme as anything other than the girl who hooked her brother on pills and almost got him killed. Now, Frankie wouldn't say she knew her well, by any means, but she and Zig had been solid for over six months, and during that time they'd been in Frankie's extended group of friends. Not once, over that period, had Frankie seen Esme high, or handing out drugs, which slowly made her realise how unfair it was for her to just place all the blame on Esme — when she very well knew her brother's tendency for self-destructive behaviour didn't need much external input.

Still, the thought of what Miles would have to say of her new social circle was constantly nagging at the back of her mind. He had been uncharacteristically chilled about it, at first, merely mocking her over the guitar-smashing fiasco that got her in trouble at home. As things went on, though, and she kept spending more and more time with Zig and Esme both at school and out, Frankie couldn't help but notice the tension building between her and Miles, like they were headed for... not just a fight, but an explosive one.

She truly hoped to be wrong. However, the disapproving looks on Miles's face whenever they crossed paths told her she wasn't far off the mark.

…

"What's that long face? I thought we were celebrating you getting into Queen's Commerce tonight!"

Frankie popped into the armchair in front of her brother. He was sunk in the sofa in the library room, a big frown on his face.

"Earth to Miles?"

As she waved her hand in front of his face, he finally looked at her. "Sorry, I'm just… I don't even know."

"What's on your mind?"

He sighed, slumping even deeper into the upholstered fabric.

"Mr. Mitchell got me this interview for a creative writing programme in London," he said.

"That's amazing!" Frankie gushed, surprised. "I didn't know you wanted to apply to a writing programme."

"Neither did I, to be honest, but… I looked it up, and it seems like a great opportunity. Too good to be true, maybe."

Frankie smiled at him. "It sounds perfect, Miles. Is that why you're worried?"

Miles exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Not really. I mean, yes, but it's not it." His eyes met hers, and she could see him faltering. "Dad came by, before."

"Oh."

"Yeah, he wanted me to have that," he said, pointing at a jacket folded on the armchair, one that Frankie immediately recognised. It had been years since she last saw it, but she still remembered how insanely proud Dad was of that old piece of University merchandising.

Miles turned back to her, discomfort on his face. "We talked, after, and well. Let's say he made it clear he doesn't think I have a shot at this. It got me so mad, but now… I don't know. It's making me question if this is the right choice, after all."

Frankie hesitated. It was always tricky to talk to Miles, whenever Dad was involved. She ended up reaching out to stroke him lightly on his arm, and smiled. "One thing at a time, then, yes? First, you do a kick-ass interview tomorrow, and then… you'll see what happens."

Miles relaxed his shoulders, his face softening in relief. "Thanks, Frankie."

She smiled, waving at him as she left the room. Seems like she'd have to tell Mum to reschedule the celebrations, after all.

…

Esme had just left. She'd been at her house all afternoon, like most days in the past couple of months. Often with Zig, other times, like today, by herself. Even when Zig was busy with work, it was never hard for Esme to find ways to keep them both entertained. It was honestly the most carefree Frankie had felt in a long time. The sky was the limit, with Esme, and fun was the only thing on the agenda.

Frankie had barely closed the door behind her when she felt the looming presence of her brother at the other end of the hall. It was rare, these days, Miles always seemed to find a way to make himself scarce whenever Esme was around.

"Was that your boyfriend's other girlfriend? Or are you dating the both of them, now?" he taunted her, "You know, I haven't kept up with the twitter rumours, this week."

"Why, are you jealous I'm having threesomes before you?" she teased him.

Miles rolled his eyes. "Are you?"

Frankie shook her head at him, a smile creeping on her face. "No, silly."

Miles crossed his arms over his chest, his fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirit. "You know that I'm all for your sexual liberation, sister of mine, but… I just really don't like how much time you are spending with Esme."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing that no one asked your opinion, then, uh?"

Miles pursed his lips to stop what was sure to be a nasty remark, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Franks, Esme… she's not a good person. For once, just trust me on this. Please?"

Frankie took a deep breath of her own, silencing her most belligerent streaks. She saw where Miles was coming from — really, she did — but that didn't make him right.

"Frankly, Miles… don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think you know her well enough to pass this type of judgment on. Not anymore."

Miles scoffed. "Oh, I know Esme, trust me. She's bad news."

That was the last straw, for Frankie, his dismissive tone made her blood boil in her veins. "Sure, go ahead, blame it all on her! It's not like you were messed up on your own, back then, right?"

She instantly regretted snapping at him. She was sure Miles would come back for her throat, after her outburst — hold that against him, really? Not her smartest move.

To her surprise, though, Miles suddenly shut down before her eyes.

"You're right," he said quietly, not even a hint of his usual sarcasm, not even trying to fight. And crap, she could definitely hear the hurt in his voice. She had messed up, big time.

"Miles, wait, I- I didn't…"

But he'd left already, barely sparing a glance in her direction. And Frankie felt like her heart had suddenly turned five pounds heavier.

…

Frankie came in slamming the front door behind her and stormed straight upstairs, ignoring her brothers' voices calling her from the living room. She needed to be alone and deflate, after the _lovely_ weekend she just had. Once in her bedroom she slammed that door as well, for good measure, angrily dropping her bag on the floor. To no one's surprise, her door quietly re-opened mere moments later, and Miles and Hunter let themselves in.

"I take it the camping trip didn't go well?" said Hunter, stating the obvious.

Miles glanced at her with concern. "What happened?"

She scoffed, raising her arms dramatically. "Well, it seems that you were right after all, and being friends with Esme was the worst idea."

"What, why?"

Frankie turned around to face them, planting her hands on her hips. "Uhm, let's see, maybe because she had a psychotic episode or something, dragged me in the woods, and then left me there alone?"

Hunter's eyes widened and Miles's face drained of all colour. "She what?"

"Oh, and it turns out I was her pet project, too, and she was only using me to keep Zig interested. So yeah, just peachy," she vented, letting all of her frustration out.

Hunter extended her a sympathetic smile, but Miles practically exploded in front of her.

"What the hell, Frankie?" he uttered through gritted teeth, "I told you she was bad news!"

"Oh, so what, should I have _expected_ it from her?"

Miles shook his head, astonished. "This is _Esme_ we're talking about!"

"Miles, c'mon," Hunter tried, but Miles shrugged away from him.

"Think of what could have happened to you! Could you not just listen to me, for once in your life? Oh, but no, _she's changed_. I was overreacting. Right?"

Frankie dig both hands in her hair, her heart pumping furiously in her chest. Hunter stepped in once again to try and contain Miles's ballistic meltdown, but Frankie had had enough.

"Just leave me alone, both of you, okay?"

Both her brothers fell silent at her outburst, but she could still see the argument simmering in Miles's eyes.

"Just… _please_. I can't handle you two right now."

She stared down her twin with the best pleading eyes she could manage until Hunter sighed, defeated, and grabbed Miles by the elbow pulling him out of her room.

Finally alone, Frankie face-planted on her bed and silently screamed into her pillow. This past weekend had been incredibly confusing, and scary. For a moment, she had seriously thought she would die in those woods, unable to find her way back to the camp. She couldn't even stand the sight of Esme, after that, and ended up sleeping in the car with Lola. Except she had to get over it in the morning, as the seniors dumped Esme on her for the way back — turns out Zig wasn't too fond of her either, at the moment. Needless to say, it was a very quiet drive.

She was completely exhausted, but she also still smelled like damp sleeping bags and bonfire. She was in serious need for a shower, or maybe a nice bath, even, to calm her nerves.

About an hour later, Frankie lied burrowed in her bed binge-watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy, warm and cuddly in her favourite pyjamas, when a knock on her door interrupted her.

"I come in peace," Miles said slipping through the crack with his hands raised. "Can I come in?"

Frankie nodded once, moving aside to leave him some space in her mess of blankets, and Miles quietly sat down in front of her.

"I'm sorry for before."

"Miles, I'm really not in the mood to talk about it."

"No, I just…" he dropped his gaze to the floor, tugging nervously at the collar of his shirt. "I just got scared, that's all. And I might have gone a little overboard."

Frankie responded with her most eloquent raised eyebrow. "You think?"

Miles gave her an apologetic smile, and stretched a hand out to her knee. "I'm just glad you're okay."

She didn't say anything to that, she just sank back into her pillow. Miles stayed around a couple more minutes, then he squeezed her hand and left.

…

Late spring was upon them, when one day Miles came back home as if walking through a thick haze, and plopped down into the lounge chair by the pool next to her. She turned her head his way, sliding her shades down the bridge of her nose, but Miles seemed intent at staring into nothingness.

"Tristan dumped me," he finally said.

"What?"

"Yeah…"

Frankie was speechless. After everything those two had been through, she had kind of started thinking they would be together forever. Hell, Miles was even considering giving up the writing programme in London to stay closer to Tristan through his recovery. Where did this come from? Wasn't it a bit ungrateful for Tristan to just drop her brother like this, after all the months he spent at his side?

"He says I'm getting in the way of his recovery. Like, I put too much pressure on him. Can you believe it?"

Frankie glanced over at Miles, who was deliberately not looking at her. He sounded almost pissed off, but — judging from his quivering voice and the mistiness in his eyes — she'd say it was most definitely his way of dealing with heartbreak. She stretched a hand towards him, stroking him gently on his forearm. Thing is, she could see Tristan's point, as well.

"You know, maybe it's for the best," she said softly, and hoped he wouldn't flip. He didn't. "You were ready to give up so much for him. You already have. Now you can accept the spot you earned at your dream school, enjoy that trip to Europe this Summer-"

"Well, the whole point was to enjoy it with _him_ ," Miles cut her off. She bit her tongue, trying to be more careful with her words.

"I know. But, let's face it, Miles, he isn't ready."

Miles sighed loudly, and turned to face her for the first time. "I know."

She quietly exhaled. "I think this might even be his way of saying thank you. To let you go, give you permission to leave him behind without guilt."

Miles didn't say anything, but he gulped as if he had something stuck in his throat. Frankie leaned closer to him and rubbed a hand on his shoulder. He took another deep breath, then shook his head at her. "It's not as if I can afford to go to London, anyway. Dad will never pay for a writing programme."

"I'm sure you'll find a way," she said, confident. Then she dropped it, though, as opening the Pandora box of their father was never a good idea.

Miles placed a hand upon hers and squeezed her gently.

"How are you doing these days, Franks?" he then asked her. "I keep springing all my problems on you and I never even asked how you're dealing with… well, the whole Esme thing, I guess."

Frankie looked suspiciously at her brother. "What, _now_ you care?"

Miles tilted his head with a knowing look that silenced her. Truth is, she didn't even know how to explain her feelings, at the moment. She had grown really close to Esme and Zig in the few months they'd spent hanging out. She had been one of Zig's "girlfriends", but it was Esme she had felt closest to, the one who had helped her get over Jonah and start having fun again. Her betrayal had stung, but despite the hurt, Frankie couldn't help missing her.

It wasn't a safe feeling to express to Miles, though, so she kept quiet. He seemingly sensed it anyway, though, and went on fidgeting with his hands in his lap, sending her sideway glances here and there.

"I'm sorry for being such an ass to you all term," he said, taking her by surprise. She turned to take a good look at him, but he was once again avoiding eye contact. "Esme and I have the worst possible history, and I can't pretend I'm not glad she's not around you anymore, but… I shouldn't have rubbed it in your face like I did. I guess what I'm trying to say is, it doesn't make me happy to see you feeling like crap."

Frankie retreated into her lounge chair, at loss for words. What was this, even. She and Miles had come a long way in the past couple of years, and they were way closer now that they had once been, but all this earnestness was a bit too much. She wasn't prepared, didn't know how to take it.

"I- I'll be fine, I think," she stuttered, unsure.

Miles gave her a half smile. "Yeah. I know you'll be."

…

In the blink of an eye, it was graduation day already.

In true Hollingsworth fashion, drama followed them all the way through, and Frankie wasn't even too surprised when she couldn't just enjoy the day, sit down, and watch her brother and friends walk across the stage. She didn't even make it into the auditorium, in fact, before her eyes caught sight of Esme — standing in front of the school steps on a freaking _motorcycle_.

Esme had been acting real weird in the past twenty-four hours, and not just regular Esme-weird. Showing up at Frankie's late last night, and then sneaking out in the early hours, and now this… she seemed completely derailed, _manic_ even. So to hell with the ceremony, Frankie ended up sneaking inside only to beg Zig to come and help her deal with their shared ex (or whatever it is Esme was to them, at this point).

Witnessing Esme's breakdown shook Frankie to the core, and not just because of her mixed feelings about the girl. In a way, it was like being transported back to last year, to the darkest moments of Hunter's downwards spiral, when he was lashing out incoherently at anyone in his path. She felt helpless, once again, much like she had felt when it was her own twin who had needed her.

All grudges aside, Esme clearly needed help. And not, unfortunately, the kind of help that she or Zig could give her. Frankie had never felt as relieved to see a teacher as she did when Ms. Grell walked through the doors, rushing to take Esme in her more capable hands. Thank god someone had the good sense to alert her, thought Frankie, as Ms. Grell pulled Esme under her wing and took her away from the crowd.

In a very anticlimactic fashion, everything then was just over, like that. Frankie barely had time to dry her tears, pull herself together, and reach her family back in the auditorium before the walking ceremony started. It was quite a rollercoaster of emotions, but by now Frankie had grown used to it. It came with the territory, it seemed.

She squeezed in next to Hunter, both their parents at their sides, and she took a moment to marvel at how far they'd all come, all the Hollingsworths gathered in the same room, celebrating the end of Miles's high school career.

"Miles Hollingsworth, London Writers' Academy," Mr. Simpson announced, and Frankie sprung to her feet, clapping her hands and cheering him on as he crossed the stage to collect his diploma.

It had been a long and bumpy ride, full of hardships and heartbreaks, but he had made it to the other side.

She was so incredibly proud of him.

…

They all got up at a pretty ungodly hour to be at the airport by 5:00 a.m. Miles's flight to Paris wasn't leaving until 8:15, but their mum had insisted they needed at least three hours to be extra safe. It was 5:40, now, the boys were checked-in and their huge backpacks dropped off, leaving them with only a small carry-on bag each.

Miles had thrown one of his signature pool parties at home, the day before, so that all their friends could have their sendoff moment. This morning was for them, the family. Winston came with his parents and Grandma, a tiny lady Frankie had never met, while the twins and their mum were there for Miles. Everybody was feeling equal parts excited and emotional, especially on the Hollingsworth side — given that Miles would go straight to London at the end of the trip, and they wouldn't see him again until Christmas. It seemed like an awfully long time.

As everybody gathered around Miles to wish him well on this new adventure, Frankie stepped aside to say her goodbyes to Winston.

"Keep an eye on him, yeah?" she said, motioning with her head towards her brother, towering over the little group of people around him. Frankie and Winston were just a few steps away, near enough to be accounted for, not so close that their words would be overheard.

"Don't I always?" Winston smirked at her.

Frankie smiled wide at him, feeling a sense of immense affection for the boy — the man in front of her. Winston had been such an important part of her life, constantly there since she could remember, and it was a strange experience being here to send him off to this Grand Tour of sorts.

"Have a lifetime of fun, this Summer," she told him emphatically, struggling to keep the emotions to a minimum, "Just try to stay sober enough not to forget anything, because I demand a super-detailed recap when you're back, okay?"

He chuckled quietly, tenderness in his eyes. "It'll be done! Take care, Franks."

He went in for a hug, and she squeezed him briefly before his parents got a hold of him, dragging him back with them to say his goodbyes to Grandma.

"All this affection for Chewy and none for me, your own brother, blood of your blood?"

Miles appeared at her side with a cocky smile of his own. Somehow, it made her laugh, and tear up a little at the same time. She had no clue how he'd managed to disentangle himself from all the attention, but here he was, alone. She decided quickly that trying to put words together would not be a good idea, so instead she just tackled him, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist and hiding her face in his chest. Miles didn't seem to have anything to say to that; she felt his arms closing in around her, his head resting on top of hers.

"I'm going to miss you so much," she somehow managed.

"I don't believe you for a second," he said, a smile in his voice.

She cupped his face in her hands, pulling him down to her height to kiss him right on his cheek.

"Be careful," she started her list of recommendation, "And have fun. And text us every day. And try not to get in too much trouble, in Europe!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm always such a saint!"

"Yeah, Saint Miles from Toronto," Hunter chipped in, popping out of nowhere right that second. "Frankenstein, are you done channelling Grandma?"

She pinched him at his side, making both brothers laugh as Hunter squirmed away from her.

"Seriously, though, I think it's time," her twin went on as he regained his composure. And, as if on cue, their mum approached them, squeezing Miles into one last tight hug.

"Be careful, okay? And have fun!" she said, causing a fit of laughter in all three of them — which left their mother in the utmost confusion.

"Was I that funny?" she asked, perplexed.

Miles shook his head, a gentle smile on his face as he kissed her goodbye. He then patted Hunter on his shoulder, and leaned down to pinch Frankie's cheek, as if she were still a little girl.

"Chewy, we're off!" Miles declared, saving Winston from his family's hold. One more round of tearful hugs, and the boys set off, joining the short queue towards Security.

The entire clan started making a decent impression of the farewell scene of a cheesy movie, with hand-waving, and last-minute recommendations shouted across the departures hall, and phones raised to capture on camera the first steps of the journey. Miles laughed his contagious laugh, shiny eyes and dimple on his cheek and all, and waved back at them one last time. Then, he turned towards Winston, put an arm around his shoulders, and the two disappeared behind the gates, duffle bags in hand, already bantering about something else entirely, something only they knew.

And, like that, they were gone.

* * *

 **More A/N: first of all, giving credit where credit's due, a huge Thank You to drizzletomyhurricane** **for keeping me motivated enough to write this and for her very sensible feedback and eye for detail. As always, any mistakes are my own fault.**

 **That being said, I really hope you liked it. Please let me know in the comments what your favourite bits were, and what else you wish I had included that I left out. I can't wait to hear your thoughts!**

 **Finally, if you're one of the, like, five people who read this story when I first posted it, please know that while working on Part II, I went back and added a few extra scenes to Part I, too. Let me know if you spot them, if you ever go back and re-read :)**


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